The Gathering Darkness: Shadows Rising
by A Darker Shade of Light
Summary: Part 1 of 5. Starts after 5th year and will follow the gang beyond Hogwarts. A grey and brooding Harry wrenches control from Dumbledore and fights his own war. Contains moderate Dumbledore bashing, new powers and some epic battle scenes. Harry / Ginny from the start.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: All rights and characters belong to JKR. No money is made, I just enjoy playing in her sandbox.

A/N: Welcome. This fic will run through year 6 onward. It is the first in a series of five that will go beyond the gangs' time at Hogwarts. The ratings is a precaution for now, but bad language, grisly deaths and mature situations will all crop up later on. Also expect mild to moderate Dumbledore bashing, grey Harry, unusual powers and epic battle scenes. This will be a Harry /Ginny fic from the start.

14th July 1996:

The man moved forward with caution, sliding his feet toe by toe across the slick frozen surface beneath his thick winter boots. Even with the addition of several pairs of socks and a layer of waterproofs and seal skins the cold still reached his frozen soles. Not for the first time the man wondered how he had come to be in this position. He could have chosen a life of comfort and warmth, surrounded by friends and family. A warm hearth, plenty of food, no need to run or hide from the constant danger of being found… but he didn't. The man shut those thoughts out, physically turning his head away from the smiling faces conjured by his own betraying mind.

Inching along the narrow tunnel the man could not see the beauty around him. The light from the large torch he carried set millions of frozen crystals shimmering in the walls and bounced upward of the towering stalagmites he squeezed his slim form between and behind. No. The man noticed nothing and kept his eyes intently on the path ahead. Periodically he would stop and check a rough map drawn on a worn and faded piece of fabric in his pocket. He would knock at the walls and scratch at the floor with the long walking stick he carried. Clearly the man searched for something, but in this barren, frozen wasteland of blank whiteness his task was nearing the impossible.

The man had been trapped in the wilderness for nearly three weeks now, reliant upon the kindness of the few local whale hunters for food and shelter, a people who themselves were bemused and not a little put out about his sudden appearance in their otherwise isolated home. He held no money, had no food or shelter to call his own, and yet he dared not go back without succeeding in his task. He had come into this forsaken place in a desperate attempt to put an end to his freezing misery. The low grating, crunching sounds of the glacier on the mountain high above where multiplied tenfold in the frozen caves below, giving the whole place an eerie, haunted feeling. The man feared the roof would cave in under the immense weight and seal him into this frozen tomb forever.

Moving forward again the man raised his walking stick, poking it toward the wall of ice he had just come up against. Expecting it to resist as the thousand or so walls before had done, the man put his full weight forward and so fell head first into the icy cavern that opened beyond, sliding some 200 feet downward before hitting another wall. Fumbling in the dark he flicked his torch back on, then sat stunned at the bottom of the ice cavern looking backward up smooth surface that he had travelled down, ascertaining in his own mind that there was absolutely no means of climbing back up. The man did not panic, though he did despair. A trickle of slow moving blood made its way across his eyelid, already clotting in the freezing climate. He wiped it away and then turned to take stock of his situation.

The man's despair quickly turned to elation. It seemed that in this most unlikely of places he had finally completed his task. Before the man lay not the wall of ice his concussed mind had first seen but a wall of pure white stone. It appeared as some form of marble, but the man was not interested in the formation of the stone. It was what was carved into the stone that was important. A series of unusual marks, lines and drawings ran across the surface of the stone. The man did not recognise them beyond that they looked similar to those on the map in his pocket. The man dug his arm into an inside pocked of his coat. Pulling out a small but old fashioned looking camera he took several photographs of the wall. He moved around the structure, digging the ice away from the rock formation and checking the sides for any further markings.

Satisfied that there was no more the man proceeded to bash each wall of the small chamber with his stick, though he found no further openings or markings. Gathering himself he looked up and considered the 200 foot drop he had fallen down from the cavern above. It was a cliff face of shear ice and there was little to no chance he would be able to climb back up it in his current form.

The man stood and considered for a moment longer. His master had told him to use strictly no magic in this search. The runes on the wall were incredibly sensitive….. The beast they imprisoned even more so. But the man was beyond any care, he had completed his search and was free to return to warmer climates, food and his own bed. He daren't try to apparate this far below ground but luckily he had another form.

Half a second later there was no man in the chamber, however anybody looking closely might have seen a pink, worm like tail disappearing back up the cliff face.


	2. Ancient Correspondence

Disclaimer: As ever all credit belongs to JKR.

* * *

Nearly two thousand miles away the boy called Harry Potter awoke in his bed. He had been having a nightmare. It was the same nightmare he had every night - that of his godfather Sirius falling through the vale in the Department of Mysteries. The incident had resulted in Sirius's death and Harry had spent the two weeks since he returned home from Hogwarts moping and feeling in parts guilty or sorry for himself in his room.

Just recently Harry had been experiencing a different emotion however. Anger. Being stuck with his neglectful muggle relatives gave Harry plenty of time to think and he had come firmly to the conclusion that most of his problems in life were the fault of Albus Dumbledore. Harry knew that he was at least partially responsible for Sirius's death. He had acted rashly and endangered the lives of multiple people. But he had done so as a response to the direct actions of Dumbledore, who had ignored him for most of the school year, treated him like a leper and then abandoned him to make life altering decisions under the not so gentle mercies of Snape and Umbridge. Add to this that Harry's current unhappy position with his relatives was due to the insistence of Dumbledore and he was assuming the absence of communication from his friends was also an enforcement of Dumbledore, this made Harry a very angry young man.

Harry lay on his bed staring at the ceiling. Last night in a fit of rage he had convinced himself he was going to break away and get at least a semblance of control over his life. In the cold light of day this did not seem like such an easy feat. Harry didn't want to abandon his life, his friends, the Wizarding world. Not even Dumbledore. No, he just wanted to have a say in what happened to him and who got to make decisions for him. Lord knows both Dumbledore and the Dursley's has failed him on many, many occasions.

Harry forced himself to sit up. He looked around his room which was a mess and decided to start with that. He spent the next hour cleaning his room and Hedwig's cage and then went and took a shower to clean himself. Nipping downstairs to make himself brunch he found the house was empty. He spotted Aunt Petunia in the back garden. Bizarrely she was sat on the lawn ruffling through a battered ottoman. The chest itself seemed to have been brought out of the shed, a location that only Harry or Uncle Vernon were usually found. Harry recognised it, it had lived in the back of the shed for as long as he could remember and held a load of odds and ends, smaller boxes, nails, broken tools and loose seeds. He didn't care enough to even consider asking what she was looking for.

Taking his food back upstairs, Harry set about organising his school books into some sort of workable order. He knew that if he was to survive the coming war he would need both education and physical training, especially with the prophecy he now had hanging over his head. In Harry's opinion this was another stupid mistake of Dumbledore's. Why spend a whole school year and all that Order energy trying to protect a prophecy that would make Voldemort want to kill him when Voldemort already wanted to kill him? Putting it out of his mind Harry spent the next several hours sorting through five years of school books and notes. He read over all of his notes, sorted out the useful and binned the worthless ones.

Pleased with his progress Harry sat down at his desk. He wrote a quick note to the Order to say he was alright as they would be expecting this tomorrow. He also wrote short letters to both Ron and Hermione, wanting to let them know he was feeling better about life and see how they were, even if they would not be allowed to write back. He left these on windowsill for Hedwig when she woke and sat down on his bed to revise The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1. He was just setting out some ink and parchment when there was a knock on his door.

Surprised, Harry rose and moved toward it. Since Moody's threats at the station the Dursley's had mostly left Harry alone. Nobody had ever bothered to knock on his door before unless he happened to have been locked in behind it but had somehow still managed to offend someone. He was surprised to find Petunia stood there holding a battered cardboard box. She shoved it at Harry who caught it with an oomph. Shocked rather than winded Harry stared at Petunia, his mouth opening and closing uselessly making him resemble a goldfish.

"You should have this." Petunia said. "It came from your mothers' solicitor shortly after…. Well you know. Delivered by one of those vermin in the middle of the night." Petunia gestured wildly at the still snoozing Hedwig. "Letter said to give it to you on you sixteenth birthday, but your uncle and I are going away and I've no intention to change our plans to cater to your abnormalities."

"Oh." said Harry. "Thanks then. Err…. When are you going away?" This was the first time he had heard anything about it.

"Well I don't know." Petunia snapped at him. "Aunt Marge is expecting. They come when it come. And you're not staying in this house alone so you'd best make plans to be elsewhere."

It took Harry a moment to find his voice but by the time he did Petunia had turned away and was stalking back down the stairs. Knowing better than to push his luck, Harry shut his bedroom door and set the box down on his bed. He took a few seconds for what had just happened to fully sink in but when it did Harry spent the next several minutes giggling hysterically in a puddle on the floor. Aunt Marge is having a baby! Two or more by the sounds of it! Who'd have thought it? Turns out there really is someone for everybody.

Forcing some composure upon himself, Harry put the box on the floor next to his desk and took a seat on the old wooden chair. The box was quite large and quite heavy and Harry pondered over Petunia keeping it hidden all these years. Harry took a deep breath then pulled the top flap open. Peering inside he found that there was actually a smaller parcel inside, along with several other objects.

The first thing Harry pulled out was a thin patchwork quilt. Not very large and clearly handmade. Harry realised that this must be the blanket Hagrid had wrapped him in when he was left on the doorstep. He took the edge of the quilt and shook it out fully. As he did so an envelope fell from within the folds of the quilt. It was old and yellowing and notably, made of parchment. Harry picked it off the floor and turned it over, noting the Hogwarts wax seal and the simple "Petunia Dursley" scrawled across the front in violet ink. Harry recognised the hand writing, though he had only seen it on a few occasions – Albus Dumbledore.

Stealing himself, Harry pulled a sheet of parchment from within. Unfolding it he placed it on his desk and read:

 _Dear Petunia,_

 _Firstly, an introduction. My name is Albus Dumbledore. You may recall that we have met before, though you were very young, when I visited your sister Lily prior to her arrival at Hogwarts._

 _I remain the headmaster of Hogwarts, as well as head of several other magical institutions. It is my sad duty to inform you that your sister and her husband were both killed in a magical incidence last evening. I now leave in your care your nephew, Master Harry James Potter, in hope that you will provide him with a home and family until such a time as he is of age to join us at Hogwarts._

 _I am aware that Lily attempted to contact you, to alert you to the danger of the war currently underway in our world. It is as a direct result of your sister's death that this war is now over or at least at a long term hiatus. I impress upon you now the importance of taking responsibility for your nephew. Harry will grow up to play a key role in the ultimate demise of the dark lord, and it is of utmost importance that he is kept safe from that danger until such time as he can act to defend himself and the Wizarding world. I have placed around your home a series of magical protections that offer both Harry and your family protection from dark interference for as long as Harry has a home with you._

 _I must take this opportunity to warn you against abandoning the boy. You are his only remaining blood relative and as such the only person who can offer this protection. Should you choose not to you put the lives of all of your family, including your nephew, at risk. There are many dark wizards who will hunt the boy who has banished their master to the ends of the earth, and will stop at nothing to find him. I must be clear that if you chose to abandon the boy the Wizarding world can ill afford the means to keep providing your family with protection and it is likely to result in your death as well as that of your husband and son._

 _If magical protection is not enough incentive, I also propose to make payments to your family of £1000 a month until the boy reaches his magical majority of 17 years to cover any costs you might incur. I will send an owl to you this evening and would appreciate if you would confirm your intention raise Harry._

 _I remind you once again that any protection will be directly removed should Harry need to leave your home._

 _Yours Sincerely,_

 _Albus Dumbledore._

Harry stared numbly at the letter, his mind in a whirl. In reality he didn't know what he had been expecting to find. As ever recently, his first instinct was anger. The Dursley's had been paid £12,000 a year to keep him, and yet he had been forced to work like a slave to "earn his keep" and had been raised on leftovers and Dudley's hand me down elephant clothes. To add to that Dumbledore had basically forced them to take him in under threat of imminent death if they didn't. Who wouldn't hate a boy who brought that sort of danger upon their family?

Harry sighed and forced himself to calm. It would do no good to go raging at Petunia about the injustice of it all. If anything it would earn him a beating and locking in his room, courtesy of Vernon. He wondered vaguely whose money it was that was paying for his upkeep. Grabbing a muggle note pad and pen, Harry started to write a list of questions. He intended to make some enquiries and would be asking Dumbledore for a meeting or two to get to the bottom of a lot of unanswered questions. This time he would not be taking half-truths or "when you are older, Harry" as acceptable answers. Harrys first two questions were: 1) who was responsible for checking on Harry when he was at the Dursley's'? and 2) where did the money come from?

Putting the letter and the blanket aside for the moment, Harry turned back to the box. He pulled out a second parchment envelope. This one was thicker and heavier and Harry upended it, tipping the contents onto his desk. The first thing Harry noted was a passport. He picked it up and inspected it. Harry had never had a passport but from what he had seen of the Dursley's it looked like a normal, muggle UK passport. He opened it to the photo page, assuming it had belonged to one of his parents but was surprised to find a clearly recent muggle photograph of himself. Harry stared. He hadn't sat for a photograph recently, and certainly not in a muggle photo booth. The photograph chose that moment to wink at him. Harry laughed. He assumed it was indeed magical and must be self-updating but added a third question to his list anyway, this time to ask a Weasley about magical passports.

Harry unfolded a large sheet of parchment and found to his surprise it was his birth certificate. He noted it was definitely a magical copy, a few of the finer details making him grin. For the first time he had something confirming his parents occupation. His mother was noted as "Junior Healer, St Mungo's" and his father was noted as "Auror, First Division London Squadron". He also noted his time of birth – 23:59:45 on the 31/07/1980 – born as the seventh month dies indeed, Harry thought to himself. He picked up a second piece of parchment, which turned out not to be parchment at all but a thick piece of quality muggle paper. He turned it over and found his muggle birth certificate, his parents noted only as "nurse" and "police officer".

Harry moved on and delved back into the box. He picked out a large white envelope made of muggle cardboard. Unfolding the lip he was surprised to find it was full of photographs. Several larger photographs were obviously shots taken for his school record, showing harry at various ages giving a toothy grin in his too big school uniform. Looking closely at these Harry scowled. He didn't know how any adult could look at the skinny, obviously malnourished child in these pictures and choose to ignore the obvious neglect the child was suffering. The other photographs were smaller, normal family shots that Harry hadn't even known still existed. There were several that had obviously been taken of Dudley but Harry had got in the shot which of course rendered them worthless. Harry remembered multiple occasions where Vernon had yelled at him for getting in the way of the camera, but didn't realise Petunia had kept any of them. One shot showed a toddler Dudley in the back yard in a paddle pool, but Harry was in the background looking on so this photograph had been disregarded. Another showed a slightly older Harry, clearly in the way of the shot Vernon had been trying to take of his new car. Harry felt a sense of grim satisfaction. They weren't nice photographs in any sense but they were proof that he did exist and he had once been a child in this house.

Dropping the photographs onto the growing pile on his bed, Harry again turned back to the box. He had finally unearthed the parcel at the bottom. It was actually quite large now that he was looking at it directly. About 18 inches long and probably as wide, perhaps a foot deep. On top of the package was one final parchment envelope. Harry lifted both items onto the desk and shook the letter out of the envelope.

 _Dear Mrs Dursley,_

 _My Name is Phillip Burchard and I am the acting as the executor for the estate of the late Mr and Mrs J Potter. May I first pass on my sincere condolences for the loss of your sister and brother-in-law._

 _It has been brought to my attention that Master Harry James Potter has been left in your guardianship. I attach a parcel left in my care by Mrs Potter before her death. I request only that you pass this to Harry on or shortly before his 16_ _th_ _Birthday. It contains some documents and information that Harry will need if he is to become an adult in magical society._

 _Once again my utmost condolences for you sad loss._

 _Yours Sincerely,_

 _P Burchard._

Harry turned to the parcel. As far as he could tell it had been left unmolested and remained in its original wrappings, the rough string and wax seals still perfectly intact. He began to pull the seals and strings away and noted it was also really quite heavy. Pulling away a sheet of brown paper, Harry revealed the façade of a carved box top that appeared to be made of engraved stone. He pulled it free of the remaining wrapping and dropped it back on the desk with a thunk. The entire surface of the box was covered in carved drawings and tiny runes, so much so that it took Harry a good ten minutes to identify a seam where it would open. It wasn't to be that simple however. Pulling at the top of the box did nothing to move it. Curios, Harry turned it over and tried from the other direction to see if he was holding it upside down. When that failed he spent another ten minutes staring at it under his desk light, trying to find something he'd missed.

Frustrated, Harry stood up and began to pace the room. He wandered around aimlessly, trying to think of possible non magical ways to open the box and mourning the implementation of restrictions on underage wizardry. It was when he was standing at the far end of his bed looking back at the box that he understood. At this distance the close carvings on the box made a bigger picture, that of a twisting tree. At the heart of the trees many branches there was an indentation that was obviously a finger print. Excited, Harry moved back toward it, placing the pad of his thumb against the mark…. only for nothing to happen.

Harry banged his head against the desk in annoyance. In the process of doing so he spotted his abandoned brunch plate and was struck with a sudden idea. Picking up his knife he inspected the blade. He used the edge of his shirt to clean off some left over cheese, then began to saw at the back of his thumb with the corrugated edge. It took a minute or so, the butter knife not really being designed for anything more complicated than a sandwich, but Harry managed to make a cut on his left thumb big enough to draw blood. He stood again with his thumb pressed to the imprint on top of the box, only for nothing to happen. Disappointed once again, Harry sat down with a heavy sigh and stared at the red smear that now stained the top of the box. He had just given up all hope of opening it without magic, when there was an audible click from the box and a lid sprung loose about an inch from the top.

Elated, Harry pulled the lid up only to find it was on a hinge. He balanced the top against his bedroom wall and peered in. as he did so the box grew in size until it covered most of the surface of his desk and he had to stand up to look over the rim. At the top of the box was yet another envelope, this time addressed to him. Harry lifted the envelope and resisting the urge to explore the contents of the box first, opened it and read:

 _Dear Mr Potter,_

 _My name is Phillip Burchard. I do not know if your aunt has ever spoken of me, but I am in essence your family solicitor, as has been the role of my family firm for several hundred years._

 _As I write this letter it has been a week since the death of your parents. Circumstances have dictated that Mr Sirius Black, your intended guardian, has been unable to assume his responsibility, and a most unfortunate incident has also rendered your godmother, Mrs Alice Longbottom, as unfit to look after you._

 _I'm sure by now you are aware that Mr Albus Dumbledore took matters of your guardianship into his own hands on the night of your parents' death. This was not in line with their will and I have entered into an investigation as it would appear that Mr Dumbledore somehow had himself appointed your legal guardian before your parents' death and furthermore, without their knowledge. I am hopeful that by the time you read this letter I will have some answers for you when we are able to meet in person. Never the less there is some information contained in this box that should mean Dumbledore's hold over you is significantly lessened._

 _Your parents left this box with me around a month before they passed away. It contains amongst other things the keys to the Potter estate, deeds to all of your properties and vaults and the paperwork related to several wizengamot seats currently held under the Potter name. Your parents have also left some personal items and family heirlooms they thought important._

 _It is my hope that we can meet in person as soon as possible to discuss matters of both your estate and guardianship. As and when your aunt passes this too you please contact me at your earliest convenience and arrange an appointment._

 _Yours Sincerely,_

 _P Burchard_

Beneath the first letter sat another envelope, this one addressed in a small, delicate handwriting that Harry had never seen before. The envelope was not sealed. He lifted the letter out and read:

 _Dear Harry,_

 _If you are reading this, then we are dead. Your father and I would have loved to be around to help you grow up, but just lately things have been very dark and dangerous and it's possible that you might end up going on without us. I hope that dad and I are sat beside you as you read this and that we have only shown it to you to teach you about history. But if that is not the case please know that dad and I have and will always love and be proud of you no matter what you grow up to become._

 _It has been some weeks now since Albus came to us and told us about a prophecy that you might well be at the centre of and that by now I assume you know of. It has been difficult to believe that our baby boy could be powerful enough to bring down Voldemort, but it is becoming increasingly more dangerous and obvious that we need to hide you. I have left this box in a safe place, with the legal firm that has looked after the Potter estate for the last 400 years. It is in fact the Potter school trunk, which has accompanied generations of first born Potters on their journey through Hogwarts._

 _That aside, I am finding day by day that people become increasingly distant, they close off in order to protect themselves, act strangely and don't always make reasonable decisions where others are concerned. These are the consequences of war. People cannot trust and so do not afford their trust to others. Harry you must trust someone, you cannot do it alone. I hope that you have Sirius and Alice and they have giving you a loving home but I also know that in war even our best laid plans can fail. If you have no one else, the Burchard family have never steered us wrong nor let down the estates in times of strife, so if you are looking for guidance start there._

 _In the trunk there are a few things we wanted you to have. I have put in our wedding rings and my engagement ring in the hope that this will end soon and we'll be able to retrieve them. You will also find our wedding album, your baby album and several albums of photographs & diary entries that your father and I complied together. We've put the family pensive in. I hope that you get to grow up with your own memories of us but if not then I hope this can be some comfort. The black folder holds the deeds for all our properties, vaults, investments and wizengamot seats. Have a read through but try not to get bogged down in it. _

_You will find this trunk is much bigger than it first appears. If you shut the lid and look for the little squirrel on the left side you will find a second key pad. Put the box on the floor before you open it. In there we have included a small library of books that we know will be useful. I know if Sirius has raised you he will not have neglected your training. Through the early part of the war your father and I were still in school and we found that people didn't want us to learn to protect ourselves, even though they couldn't do much to protect us themselves. People's instinct to keep the innocent safe is not a bad human trait but it doesn't do in a time of war to go unprepared for the sake of propriety._

 _If you turn the box to the right there is a fox there guarding another lock. Within you will find the training room. There are several sets of armour as well as some useful dark detectors, and magical weapons you should explore and learn to use. There is an owl on the back side that leads into a small apartment. Potters have been known to hide in the trunk in times of danger. It can be safely moved with passengers in place but do remember to open it and let some air in from time to time. And finally there is a front compartment hidden by a tree frog. Within you will find the potions lab which I have fully stocked. I feel at this point it is foolish to hope Severus will mend his ways but I do hope he'll get past it and take an interest in your education._

 _Anyway, as much as I could write to you forever a smaller version of you that's currently taking a nap will soon wake and demand lunch. Your father has written you a letter which I've included with this one. Words cannot say all I want you to know my darling boy, but know always that I am with you and always watching over._

 _All My Love,_

 _Mummy._

Harry wiped the tears from his face with the back of his hand. Even knowing in advance that the box contained a message from his parents he had not been ready for the emotions swirling through him. This was the first time Harry had ever had anything close to a communication with his parents. Taking a deep breath, Harry turned to the parchment behind:

 _Harry,_

 _I've never been one for mush. It's probably a good thing because your mothers currently sobbing her heart out and keeps yelling at me every time I try to comfort her and I'm assuming you're all mushed out. I'm sure Mum has told you endlessly that we both love and believe in you and will be proud wherever your path takes you. This is of course all true, but I believe there are also other things you should know. Things about your family, your past and your future. And Physics. Potter Physics. So here goes:_

 _Potter men always marry a red head. There is no choice, it just happens and that's how it is. Give in, whoever she is. 34 generations of Potter men have gone before you and never has the path wavered. Potter babies will always be black haired boys or red head girls. It doesn't happen the other way around. Don't put your mother's engagement ring on anybody you don't want to marry. It's a promise ring in the most magical sense….. So unless you want a wedding, just don't!_

 _You have enough money you'll likely never need a job. Some excellent investments on the part of our ancient ancestors have ensured a steady income for years to come, and ample savings to boot. I suppose what I'm saying is don't worry. Live a little. You've been labelled with an awful fate before you can even speak, and if that task is going to rule your path you'd do just as well to have some fun along the way. More importantly, don't see this certain death. There is always hope and you are strong and talented._

 _Speaking of the future, your mum's got a bit of it in her. She'll tell you that divination is for old ladies who knit stories when they should knit yarn, but really Mums got just a little bit of a sixth sense. The reason I'm writing this letter is because she won't quite admit that she knows we're both as good as dead and Sirius seems to be under question too. Trust your instincts Harry. I'm not saying shut yourself in a room full of incense and chant, just listen to that little inner voice when it's telling you something._

 _And speaking of fun, if you go in the library at Hogwarts and look under the loose shelf on the back wall in the fourteenth aisle of the restricted section, you'll find the Marauder Manual. I hope you've got Sirius around and he's already told you this, but just in case….._

 _You are an awesome Quiddich player. I already know this because at 14 months old you can already catch a golf ball in the dark. It's easy to listen to endless professors tell you Quiddich is not a job. That your future cannot rely upon the off chance you'll make it big. I had that chance and I wish I'd had someone around who would tell me to take it. The world you have been born into is a vicious and dark place. I hope for your sake that by now it has changed. But if it has not, remember that the war is not everything and that the glory of being an Auror and catching the bad guy might cost you a limb or your life. A career in Quiddich might last a decade, two if you're good, and a career as an Auror or a healer or a lawyer will still be there at the end because you are young and have a hundred plus years ahead of you even at that point._

 _Finally, No matter what Sirius might tell you, it is not OK to wear lip gloss!_

 _So, I can't write every piece of advice I'd ever want to give you in a letter. I'd hoped we'd have more time and that we could at least raise you to a point when you knew us and knew that we loved you, and we knew you and had given you the tools you needed to go on in life. But you cannot have everything, so remember that the most important things in life are people and not objects. People keep you strong and give you purpose, without others we are nothing. And now I really must go and sort out your mother before she self-destructs entirely._

 _Love Always,_

 _Dad._

Harry sat on his bed and chuckled, feeling markedly better than he had five minutes ago. Tucking the parchments safely back into their envelope he moved to investigate the contents of the trunk. There was indeed a black folder. It was far thicker than Harry had envisaged and he put it aside to read through later. He pulled out a lacquered wooden box. It was quite large with several smaller draws and trays. He opened the lid and found it to be full of sparkling jewels. Just by sight he could tell that these were very expensive. He opened a smaller velvet box and opened it. Two wedding bands and a diamond ring dropped into his hand. Lifting the smaller wedding ring into the light he read the engraving on the inside of the band "For My Lily-Flower, Until Eternity". Tearing up again Harry dropped the rings back into the box and investigated the other draws in the jewellery box, finding a multitude of very expensive looking bracelets, chains, and what he assumed to be ladies hair pieces.

Harry then pulled out a similar box that was markedly smaller. Opening this he found what was clearly a man's wrist watch. There were also several pairs of cufflinks that had a crest Harry did not recognise on them and some larger pieces of engraved metal. Picking up a folded piece of parchment that was loose in the box, Harry read:

" _Harry, we had these made when you were born. They are a traditional christening / coming of age present for young men in the Wizarding world. It should be a pocket watch but who carries one of them anymore? The cuff-links show the potter family crest. We had a few pairs made, some for daily use and some for more formal occasions. The gauntlets are made of both dragon hide and goblin metal and are again traditional wear for young pure blood heirs. You will find they are quite useful and have several other functions, including a duel wand holder. Put them on and don't take them off until you've won this war, and preferably not then. Dad x"_

Harry followed orders and slid the two gauntlets over his wrists. They were far too big but with a shimmer of magic shrunk themselves to fit perfectly over his lower arm and wrists. In fact the lining of the gauntlet came down so he was wearing what amounted to half a leather glove, just brushing the top of his knuckles. There were soft sued patches around the wrist joints, allowing him to move without any problems. Harry pulled his wand from under his pillow and slipped it into the holster on his right wrist. He looked bemusedly at the circular dent in in the left cuff, but then it clicked. He took the watch from the box and slid it over the left gauntlet where it secured itself neatly to the mark.

Next Harry found 5 brown leather photo albums and a larger one bound in white silk. He flicked through the first and found that his mother had indeed put detailed annotations of dates and events under each photograph. He stacked these on his bed, planning on a little bedtime reading later on. The final item in the first compartment was his parents pensive. He looked at it from above but decided to leave it in the trunk until he had somewhere secure to keep it.

Harry stared at the trunk, once again utterly bewildered. His mother had said to put it on the floor before he opened any other compartment but the thing had grown all of its own accord and must weigh a ton. He once again set about exploring the parameters of the trunk. It took a good twenty minutes to find a latch in the under panel of the lid which allowed him to alter the trunk to three different sizes, the third being a setting that shrunk the trunk onto a key chain.

Dropping the trunk onto the floor, Harry caught sight of his alarm clock and realised it was almost 12am. With all of the school work he had sorted that afternoon and the emotional roller coaster that had followed, he hadn't realised how time was passing. Noting that he was both hungry and exhausted, Harry made a decision to leave the rest of his exploring until the morning. He snuck quietly out of his room and down to the kitchen, avoiding the creaky step at the bottom. He dropped his dirty brunch plate into the dishwasher and helped himself to a yogurt and some grapes from the fridge.

Returning to his room Harry poked Hedwig awake. He meant to write to Hagrid as he had found that she seemed to have been overtired lately considering she had very little actual work to do. He added a P.S to his note to the order telling them he was going to have to vacate the Dursley household by about the 25th at the latest. Plonking the pile of albums and letters onto his desk, Harry selected the top photo album and crawled into bed with it. He was asleep less than five minutes later.


	3. Unexpected Introductions

The following morning Harry was up early despite his late night. His dreams had been full of swirling, changing scenes of his parents and godparents. It ended as ever with an image of Sirius's face as he fell through the vale and Harry awoke with the horrible feeling that he had been both running hard after something and running away from something terrifying.

Being awake at 5am Harry had forced himself to follow his original plan and had snuck downstairs to go out for a run. He looked around the front yard trying to spot where any Order member might be watching over him. Harry did not like to feel that he needed to be under secret surveillance. If someone was watching him he wanted to know who it was and furthermore, who would be going back to make reports on his activities to the Order. Feeling a fool, Harry addressed the empty air.

"Hello, if there is an Order member here please show yourself."

There was no response. Unable to spot any obvious signs of Order life, Harry looked around himself to confirm he was alone in the muggle Street, then waded through Aunt Petunias flower beds on tip toe, waving his arms around like a windmill. Despite walking the entire perimeter of the garden Harry did not hit anyone or hear any movement. He used the same tactic on the sidewalk and still found no sign of life.

Curious, thought Harry to himself. It would appear that he had been left unattended. Deciding to get on with his run and see if anybody tried to stop him, Harry ran through some of the warm up exercises he usually used before Quiddich practice. Then he took off down the road, straining his ears for sounds of someone following him. There were none.

Unfortunately Harry had overestimated his own ability to run and was winded by the time he hit the end of the street. Apparently five years of an only intermittent need to run away from Dudley had reduced his ability significantly. Nevertheless Harry forced himself to cross the road and enter the park. It wasn't a large park, Harry guessed it was about the size of the Quiddich pitch at Hogwarts. From this he estimated that it was about 400 meters around the perimeter. He started a slow jog and made himself run the perimeter five times. It was slow work but by the end he thought he must have run two kilometres. Pleased with himself Harry exited the park and walked back toward Privet Drive, stretching his cooling muscles as he went.

He took a quick shower, forgetting he was wearing metal gauntlets as he jumped in. Shocked, Harry raised his hand to quickly switch of the water and watched as the gauntlet vanished before his eyes. Raising his other hand, Harry confirmed that he was not mad and the objects had in fact removed themselves. They reappeared while he was drying off. He nipped downstairs and made himself a breakfast of microwave porridge and bananas, as well as a cheese sandwich for lunch which he took upstairs. Even with the Dursley's leaving him alone, the less he had to interact with them the better.

Keen to get on with exploring his new trunk, Harry forced himself to first compose a letter to Phillip Burchard requesting a meeting as soon as possible. Hedwig had not returned from her overnight trip yet so Harry left it on the windowsill. He then turned his attention to the trunk and decided he would start with the library. Moving to the left side he pressed his finger against the tail of the little squirrel and waited.

It would seem the trunk was not going to want blood on every occasion. It gave an almighty shudder and then appeared to sink into the floor. In its place there was now a trap door, perfectly blended in with the cream carpet and only visible if you knew where to look for the seams. Harry ran his hands over the surface looking for some means to open the door. The trunk seemed to read his intention and a handle sprung out of the floor. Harry pulled but rather than coming upwards the trap door gave a jerk and seemed to slide sideways into the floor leaving a steep wooden staircase.

Harry descended the staircase. It was made of a solid dark stained wood that he thought to be oak. He counted the steps moving downward in a steep spiral and reaching 50 before he got to the bottom. As soon as he stepped off the last step the stairway retracted itself into the ceiling. Covered circular torches on the walls had lit themselves as he had descended and he could now see that he stood in a circular room that was probably sixty feet across and easily that again in height. Harry counted the books on one shelf. There were 20 shelves in per level, each about 3 foot wide and holding an average 20 books. He took a guess at 60 layers and estimated around 24,000 books! Massive rolling ladders scaled the walls. In the centre of the room was a large wooden table, surrounded by 12 chairs, with piles of parchment, ink wells and quills in the centre.

Harry wandered around the room reading the titles of the books on the wall. The room was well organised into sections and he was just pondering a rather gruesome drawing on the cover of "How to Turn Your Enemies Inside Out" when something caught the corner of his eye. Camouflaged between two book cases there was a slim door. Replacing the book on the shelf Harry made his way over and tried the handle. It opened without resistance and he found himself moving forward into a large sitting room. He realised the compartments of the trunks must interlink on the inside.

Harry goggled, recalling his mother's description of a "small apartment" in wonder. The room before him was easily 40 feet long and that wide again. It had a large vaulted ceiling above. Harry had only ever been in a cathedral once on a school trip with his muggle primary school, but this was what he used in comparison. Another spiral staircase led upward to a balcony that ran around the right side of the room leading off to four doors. Downstairs also led off to a door on the right and another directly opposite him. The large room had been divided into four clear areas. To his left was a cosy sitting area with two large leather corner sofas facing each other and an enormous fireplace. Directly opposite and to the left there was a fully fitted kitchen. To the right of that was what was clearly the dining area, though from what Harry could see from his current position there was also a bar on the far right wall and it looked to be fully stocked! The area directly to his right was a further seating area though it was set up differently with smaller groups of armchairs surrounding coffee tables. Harry noted the same covered torches. He also noted they gave off a light more similar to daylight than fire and as a result the room was not dark at all despite its complete lack of windows.

He moved quietly through the room toward the opposite door. The vaulted ceiling made him feel like he was disturbing some ancient sanctuary. Opening the door he stepped into a room that was quite different, and easily double the size of the one he'd just left. The ceiling was much lower and the wooden floor gave way to a surface that was obviously padded, though it was still firm and flat. It carried a series of strange markings and measurements. The left hand wall held several duelling dummies similar to those the Room of Requirement had provided for the DA. The far wall had multiple sets of robes on hangers. Harry took a closer look at these and found that they were indeed duelling armour, compiled in parts of dragon hide, chain mail and what he guessed was acromantula silk. The right hand wall was covered from floor to ceiling in weapons and instruments. Some of them Harry recognised, swords, brass knuckles and crossbows were quite easy to identify but there were literally hundreds of gadgets, gems and whirring objects that he didn't have a clue what to do with. It reminded him very much of Dumbledore's office and he cringed away from the memory of his end of term tantrum.

Harry left the training room and made his way to the final door on the ground floor. As promised it was a potions lab and it was stocked with far more ingredients than Harry had ever seen in Snapes' rooms at Hogwarts. Cauldrons in different sizes and materials hung from the beams that crisscrossed the ceiling. Three walls were fully shelved and weighed down under thousands of bottles and jars. There were several stations obviously intended for potions making, some with fume hoods. There were several shelves amongst the piles of phials and beakers that held what looked like largely overfilled muggle ring binders. Harry chuckled to himself. Hermione was going to die when she got in here. Harry didn't know how he was going to get her out.

He wandered back into the main room and lost in a daze sat down on one of the large sofas before the fire place. Deep in thought, Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when someone above him cleared their throat. Looking upward he came face to face with the last possible person he was expecting to see.

"Dad?"

"Hello Son. Long-time no see"

Harry continued to stare bewilderedly upward. There, in a massive frame above the fireplace, was a life-size portrait of his father who was sitting on a sofa similar to the one Harry was sat on himself. A door behind him appeared to lead to another picture or room and Harry could hear voices coming from it faintly. Whoever was behind there sounded like they were having a bickering argument.

"Wha…Wh..W..W" Harry stuttered but couldn't find his words. As it happened it didn't matter because two other people took that moment to fall through the door, tumble over the sofa and into the invisible glass at the front of the frame. Recovered a little, Harry grinned wickedly. The second person he could easily identify, the sleek black hair and smiling grey eyes giving him away immediately. He was attempting to affix something to the head of the third person in the frame, but was having some difficulty as he was being drowned in flaming red hair and also being violently pummelled by his victim.

"Sirius." Exclaimed Harry, causing Lily to push Sirius off her entirely and whip around to face him.

"Hi Mum." Harry gave her a cheeky grin. He felt somewhat relived not to be the only one struck dumb by the situation. His mother stood pressed against the glass for several seconds in silence. Harrys relief was short lived however as she burst into tears.

"No, no, no, no…" James pulled Lily off the glass, wrapping her into his arms.

"Your mother was under the impression you'd still be a toddler when you turned up, despite you not coming to visit us for the last fifteen years" said Sirius.

"Er…Sorry?"

Clearly this was the wrong thing to say as Lily just bawled louder. It took some twenty minutes for her to calm down enough to talk without sobbing. It was helpful, in an awful and unfortunate way, as it gave Harry enough time to sort out what was happening inside his mind resulting in his first coherent question.

"So how did you guys get up there? You definitely weren't there when I came in."

"No we weren't" Sirius responded. "We didn't know who you where so we didn't show ourselves until we were sure it was safe."

Harry once again was at a loss for words, overwhelmed by his emotions. It was no bad thing however as his mother seemed to have recovered enough to give him a prompt.

"How have you been Harry? Lily asked, clearly not realising what a loaded question that was.

Harry sighed. "How much do you already know?" was his response. He was rapidly realising that though he had been surrounded by magical portraits for the last five years, he knew very little about how they were made.

"Quite a lot." James this time. "Our link to reality cut off after I assume we died. But Sirius apparently didn't die all that long ago. He's been keeping us up to date on your activities over the past few years."

"Oh." Harry was surprised. "So I know nothing about this. You have some kind of link to your real self? Or you're a bit of you? I don't understand."

Sirius took over.

"There are several types of magical portraits. The first is very basic. If a wizard paints a picture of someone who's not real per say, a character they've made up, then they can chose to give it a very basic level of personality. A slightly more complex version of that charm will allow the painting some additional features or a small memory and it might guard some information, for example a password to a safe. A wizard can paint his own portrait, and with the right charms and paints it will have his personality, but not any of his memories. Again a slightly more complex version allows the wizard to use the painting in a similar way to a pensive and store within it some of his memories. These paintings are the type you find in places like Hogwarts and the Ministry. They normally have some degree of independent memory and recall, an example is the Fat Lady, who has enough of a memory to recall generations of Gryffindor students. Then there are family portraits which are normally only found within private wizarding estates and that's what we are. James and I, both being born into magical homes, will have been sat at birth for our portrait. Your mothers was done shortly after her marriage. The making of the painting is in charms and in runes on the canvas and in this case a small amount of the subject's blood that is mixed into the paint. That allows the painting to age with its subject and to automatically collect and retain the memories of said person. So your mum and dad here disconnected as such, 15 years ago with their death, something I have only recently experienced."

"What you're saying is you're like a talking diary of your whole life?" Harry asked.

"That's right pup. But you must remember we are only a memory, not the real thing. Also, if you visit some of the potter properties you'll find more than a few grandparents waiting to fuss over you."

Harry nodded, tears stinging the back of his eyes. Here before him was the closet he had ever been to having a family. Made of memories or not it was good enough for him.

"So" Lily startled Harry out of his stunned silence "Tell us what's been going on? I want the Harry version not the Sirius version."

Taking a deep breath, Harry obliged her. It took several hours and more than a few bouts of tears from all parties, but Harry brought his parents fully up to date on life with the Dursley's and his first five years at Hogwarts. By the end Lily had gone from sobbing to fuming, at both Voldemort and Dumbledore, especially when Harry told her the solicitor was investigating their guardianship rights. Both of his parents were keen to meet the Weasleys' and Hermione at the earliest possible opportunity and Sirius was already planning out a training schedule while demanding Harry make arrangements to get Ron and Hermione there as soon as possible.

Harry spent a pleasant afternoon in the trunk getting to know his family now that the depressing conversations were out of the way. He learnt a few more bits and pieces about the trunk. It currently contained most of the unique books in the Potter library and supposedly more than a few even Dumbledore would kill to get his hands on. His parents had been in the process of putting the library into safe keeping when they were told about the prophecy and they had made efforts to make sure they took along anything that might be useful in Harrys fight against Voldemort into hiding with them. The potions lab turned out to be his mother's obsession. She enjoyed collecting rare ingredients, books and difficult to make samples and had entered the healing trade only to gain higher qualifications in that area of the potions trade. Harry nearly fell over when she told him Snape had had no interest in potions before he discovered it was Lily's favourite. He also learnt how to get the stairs back, simply by shouting for them. He nipped upstairs only once, to collect his pre prepared lunch and some munchies from the kitchen, even though it was already early evening. It had the added bonus of allowing him to pick up a letter Hedwig had left on his bed. He had an appointment in London at 3pm the following day….


	4. A Friend of the Family

Disclaimer: As ever I own nothing and owe all to the great JKR.

A/N: Serenityselena - My first review. Thank you! Here goes...

* * *

9am the following morning saw Harry attempting something he hadn't contemplated since the start of the holidays. A proper conversation with Uncle Vernon. Harry wasn't stupid enough to think Vernon would offer to drive him into London but the first and last time Harry had caught a muggle train alone had been more than five years ago, before his first year at Hogwarts and his only other experience involved Mr Weasley and could hardly be called informative . Harry entered the kitchen and helped himself to bacon and scrambled eggs from the pan, feeling he had earned it after his considerably more painful run this morning. His actions earned a derisive sniff in his direction from Petunia and a grunt from Vernon who had peered over the top of his paper to glare at Harry, likely in the hope it would cause him to go away again. Dudley merely whimpered in terror. He hadn't spoken to Harry since the start of summer and was prone to exiting any room Harry entered at his top waddling speed of about half a meter per hour. Harry had overheard a conversation between Dudley and his mother about the likelihood of Harry calling the "Dementiods" again.

This morning Dudley was conflicted between his two passions in life – being dramatically afraid of Harry while simultaneously attempting to eat his body weight in fried breakfast foods. Harry sat and dug into his breakfast, ignoring the other people in the room until they each went back to what they had been doing previously. His presence was causing Dudley to rock on his chair and make strange squeaking and grunting noises while making rapid glances between the door and his mother and shovelling scrambled eggs into his mouth at an inhuman rate. Harry watched out of the corner of his eye until Dudley seemed to relax a little and focus on his food again. He chose this as his moment.

"Uncle Vernon." Harry spoke. Dudley screamed and threw his fork which ricocheted off the window and landed neatly in the sink.

"What boy?" Vernon lowered his newspaper in what Harry assumed he thought was a threatening manner but actually made him look like a bizarre villain out of a children's cartoon. All that was missing was a monocle and a cigar.

"I need to get a train to London. Marylebone I think, I don't know how to find out when. Can you help me please?"

"What business have you got in London boy? I'm not going to help you meet up with your freakish friends now am I?"

Harry decided that on this occasion the truth was his friend. Anything that meant Harry might go somewhere else made Vernon a happy man. "Actually I've got an appointment with a solicitor who might help me leave this place and not come back."

Vernon stared at Harry for an uncomfortably long moment. Dudley's fearful grunts were slowly getting louder and he was almost bouncing on his seat. Harry stared back, forcing himself to keep a straight face and not blink. He wondered vaguely what would happen if Vernon ever tried to have an argument with Voldemort. Eventually Vernon caved.

"What time is your appointment?"

Harry told him.

"I'll look it up on the computer. And don't think I'm giving you money boy."

"No Uncle. Thank You."

Meeting something of a ceasefire Harry and Vernon returned to ignoring each other. Rising from the table Harry moved toward the dishwasher causing Dudley to give a violent jerk away from him. Unfortunately the pinewood chair Dudley was currently siting on chose this moment to finally give up the fight against his epic weight as one of the legs splintered and gave out. Dudley tried to save himself by grabbing the table cloth, causing all of the dishes to fall on top of him in a heap of eggs and Dudley on the floor.

Harry bit his tongue, desperately stifling the giggles fighting to escape him. It was a good thing he managed it too.

"He did it, him… Him and his freakishness. He, he, he, he used M, M… Magic." Dudley was pointing at Harry with one hand while eating a handful of scrambled egg with the other.

Harry braced himself, waiting for the yelling to start, but by some miracle it didn't.

"Get out boy" Vernon addressed Harry. Not believing his luck, Harry went. As he reached the bottom of the stairs he heard Petunia speak to Dudley.

"Diddum's, your father and I have been meaning to speak to you. It's just that your diet…. it's not really working is it?"

Harry snorted. Understatement of the century. Dudley now had to turn sideways AND push just to get through doors and he didn't fit in the front seat of Vernon's car. Despite himself he crept slowly backward toward the kitchen door.

"Daddy and I have decided that perhaps you need a little holiday."

There was silence in the kitchen. Apparently Dudley couldn't see the connection between his weight problem and a holiday. To be honest Harry couldn't either.

"You know that we are going to stay with Auntie Marge for a little while and well, it's not the place for a young man like you to be, waiting about in a maternity home. Daddy and I have found a lovely summer camp. It's not far from Auntie Marge you can still come and visit us. And they might be able to help you a little bit, you know, change your mind about food and such…."

Petunia trailed off. Vernon said something but Harry didn't hear, he was beside himself in stiches on the hallway floor. Dudley was being sent to fat camp! A sudden crash from the other side of the kitchen door sobered him up quickly. A second crash sent him sprinting back up the stairs before he could be caught in a Dudley tantrum. Harry was no fool and fully aware he was still Dudley's favourite punch bag, dementoids or not. He looked around his room and then heaved his bed diagonally across the room so one end rested on the door and the other at an angle against the opposite wall of his small room. It was messy but it was the best he could do for a lock. Locks were normally applied only to the outside of his bedroom doors.

Harry spent the next hour listening to Dudley throw the tantrum of his life. He daren't go into the trunk in case Dudley actually managed to break through his make shift barricade. Instead he amused himself by alternating between listening to the screaming and watching out the window to see if he could spot any sign of the Order. He didn't and this was all to his favour. He needed to be able to escape from here to London without Dumbledore's notice if he was to have any hope in some actual freedom before the end of summer. Harry pondered over their absence and wondered just how bad the war in the wizarding world had become to make Dumbledore take his eyes of his key weapon.

Dudley finally quieted down at about 10:30. Or rather, he left the house in a fit of rage, slamming the front door so hard one of the stained glass panels fell out. He kicked a wing mirror off Vernon's company car on the way down the drive. Harry hadn't left his room, but from listening to the trail of Petunia's shrieks among the bangs and crashes he estimated that the greenhouse had probably been flattened, the shed no longer had a door, the garden fence was in need of fixing, quite a lot of the best crockery was no more and the living room TV would need replacing. Harry had been lucky, his door had only been tried once and Dudley had given up quickly, no doubt keen to cause more immediate destruction somewhere else. Harry believed that destruction to have been Dursley's own personal computer and TV.

He didn't leave his room until about 12pm, keen on giving Vernon some cool off time before he asked again for a train timetable. Mr Burchard's office wasn't actually in wizarding London it was somewhere in the vicinity of Marylebone train station and Harry was grateful for the reduced risk of meeting any adult magicals he might know. Harry entered the living room and surveyed the destruction. The TV was in several hundred pieces on the floor and the curtains were hanging at an odd angle only half on the rail. Vernon was sat on the cream sofa smoking a cigar, something Petunia would not normally allow him to do in the house. Petunia was nowhere to be seen. Harry cleared his throat nervously.

He needn't have worried. Vernon did not acknowledge him just handed him what turned out to be the back page of that mornings newspaper. On it was scribbled several times and the names of three stations. It turned out he needed to change train three times and Harry was grateful that he had asked instead of just winging it. Realising the journey was going to take about two hours, Harry dashed upstairs and changed into the smartest clothes he had. This consisted of his school shoes, pants and white shirt along with knitted dark green waistcoat of Dudley's from when they were both about 11. It had taken Harry this long to grow into it and had the added benefit of covering the Gryffindor crest on his pocket. No need to make the muggles ask questions!

Harry had very little muggle money. All that he withdrew from Gringotts was magical currency. However Lily had thought to include some of each currency in the safe in the trunk. Harry was lucky, the £1 coins hadn't changed since 1978 and he had around £25 in these. He pocketed the rest of the muggle cash, intending to take it into the bank and see if they would change it.

* * *

Two and a half hours later Harry arrived successfully in Marylebone station, early for his appointment and completely unmolested by Order members. It was much bigger than he had anticipated and he got lost several times wandering in the streets around the station before he caved in and went back to ask a guard. The solicitor's office was in Dorset Square and it turned out Harry had left through the wrong door of the very large station. Once he found the correct exit it was a case of turning left and walking in a straight line. Harry arrived at the office with all of four minutes to spare.

Phillip Burchard turned out to be a portly man who by muggle standards could have been in his mid to late 70s. Harry wasn't very good at ageing a wizards yet and knew the man was likely well over the hundred mark in years. Nevertheless he had a jolly, welcoming character that put Harry immediately at ease. The cup of sweet coffee and giant chocolate cookie Harry was furnished with also helped to take the tension out of his panicked mind. Now he was here he had no idea how he was supposed to behave or what he could hope to realistically achieve.

"So Mr Potter…. Might I call you Harry?" Harry of could gave his permission and Mr Burchard invited him to use Phil or Phillip in turn.

"Now I'm sure you were quite surprised by my letter?" Harry nodded

"Indeed I was quite surprised by your mother's request. I was fortunate enough to be invited to attend your parents wedding and several other family functions including your own christening. It always seemed there was a strong support network around the Potters, so it came as quite a surprise when your mother asked for me check up on you should something befall them. Nevertheless it would seem she was correct in her assumption that all was not well. As I mentioned in my letter, a small amount of research has unearthed a startling amount of indiscretions. I would ask, Harry, that you tell me all that you can about your life to date and I in return will tell you what I know about your current circumstances and what we can to do change them. Should you wish too, that is."

Harry hesitated. There were an awful lot of secrets and lies surrounding him. Harry wasn't fool enough to not know that this man needed the whole truth if he was to represent him in any way. However from Pollyjuice to time travel, there were no small amount of law breakings in Harrys' past. Then he thought of his mother's letter and of the conversations he had had with both of his parents over the last evening and made his decision. Taking a deep breath Harry launched into his life history for the second time in as many days.

Two hours later Phillip had taken several pages of notes. He was particularly horrified by the poor treatment that had been put in Harry's direction on many occasions. The Dursley's, the Triwizard Tournament, Umbridge's quill and the Snape version of Occlumency were big areas of contention. The last one was one Phillip was keen to discuss at length.

"Harry, are you aware that it is illegal to enter another wizards mind?"

Harry confirmed he did not in fact know that, or that he had known it had even been possible before Christmas of this year.

"To enter another wizards mind without their permission is treated in wizarding courts on a similar charge to rape. A witch or wizard has a right to privacy within his own person. Furthermore it is illegal to teach this skill to minors who cannot consent and as in your case do not know what they are consenting too. Severus Snapes method of "teaching" also leaves something to be desired. Then there is the fact that you must have a licence to teach Occlumency. Normally people who have these are people like myself, who manage private estates, members of the wizengamot, heads of households, personal healers and Aurors. People whose job it is to keep a confidence or formally investigate. I am one such person and I can tell you that there are 402 other people currently registered as proficient in Occlumency or Legilimency in the UK. Severus Snape is not one of them, his questionable activities during the last war certainly rule him out of any consideration for such a licence."

Harry was unsurprised. The whole situation was beyond questionable anyway. There was no reasonable circumstance that Dumbledore should ever have thought Snape was an appropriate adult to spend extensive time alone with him engaged in any activity let alone Occlumency.

"Secondly Harry, your inclusion in the Triwizard Tournament was more than illegal. Both the headmaster and the ministry have let you down in this matter. Once again there was a contract in place that you could not legally consent to. I daresay Albus Dumbledore was fully aware that he could have withdrawn you from the competition before its start and with no ill effect to your person. The ministry would not have allowed such a clause as to damage any wizards magic or threaten lives for something as petty as a children's competition. That is why the tournaments were banned in the first instance."

"Thirdly, there is the matter of your guardianship. I have had near 15 years to investigate this and I have accrued some interesting evidence. It would seem that our friend Dumbledore took advantage of the ministerial chaos in the last war to acquire your guardianship. There was a very short period toward the end of the last war when there was no Minister and the Wizengamot had a body of only 15. Heads of departments and clerks were all signing off their own paperwork, it was that or give up and go home as nothing got done. It seems Mr Dumbledore took the opportunity to put through a paper called a "transfer of trust". This would normally be used for an orphan child that needed adoption, or a child who could not live at home, for example due to abuse or extreme poverty. The idea is that the child is put into a state of limbo, as such they are a ward of the ministry until a new guardian is appointed."

Phillip paused to allow Harry a nod to show he was following.

"Dumbledore got himself one of these papers that allowed him to decide your guardianship upon your parent's death. Of course he could have had you moved beforehand but clearly it didn't suit his plans. And of course he had to write all sorts of falsities about your parents to get It, at this stage you were not an orphan. But being the head of the Wizengamot nobody will have questioned him too closely. In normal circumstances he would have needed the clearance of the full Wizengamot to clear it, and as there are no other signatures on here but Dumbledore's I have to conclude he just didn't ask them. There was chaos but the Wizengamot was one thing that still worked, small though it was. Without them there would have been no law or justice and the war effort would have been over. I've managed to confirm with no less than 7 of those who would have sat for the hearing stated on this date that no such hearing occurred. Further to this, 5 of them were personal friends of your family and would not have voted to back it. Of the remaining 8 members 5 were murdered before the end of the war and the other three would be considered too infirm to give evidence in court at this time. These are very rare documents Harry, the last one was issued more than 150 years ago. Wizards rarely involve themselves in the family business of others, as a race we are very good at turning a blind eye."

Harry was stumped. He was massively conflicted between raging anger and confused wonderment at just how far back Albus Dumbledore's obsession with him ran.

"What happens now?" was Harrys only question.

"Now?" Phillip gave him a grin to rival the Cheshire cat. "Why now we take a few new documents and something rather wonderful happens."

Harry was nothing if not more stumped. He said nothing and stared at Phillip, waiting for the punch line.

"You see Harry, Dumbledore considers himself a clever man. He pre-empted anybody else's actions and ensured himself control over you upon your parents death. He did this in what has to amount to an illegal action and in all essence got away with it – until now. But he is also an arrogant man who thinks himself beyond the normal governing of society and far more intelligent than any other. Because of this he did not fully complete that action that originally gave him control over you. In order to seal the Transfer of Trust the child must be assigned a new guardian within 24 months, and this new guardian must be approved by the Wizengamot. Dumbledore made the magical world aware that your Aunt was your new guardian but in the administrative disorder after the war he never took this to the Wizengamot."

Harry once again could do nothing but nod his understanding.

"It is my belief he would not have anyway even had there been the correct administrative system in place. It was the fact that your aunt is not legally your guardian that allowed Dumbledore to essentially force your family to let you attend Hogwarts. If your aunt had been your legal guardian, the first letter from her stating you would not attend would have been enough for the Ministry to declare you a muggle. Nor is Dumbledore your guardian as he did not sign the paper on his own behalf and has taken no action since its expiry to renew the paper. If the 24 month period expires without a new guardian being appointed then guardianship is automatically returned to the biological parent. I needn't point out Harry, that your parents were dead by this point. You could not be placed with any of the persons named in their will and they could not provide new arrangements for you. Simply put, at this point you have no legal guardian whether wizard or muggle."

Harry grinned, slowly starting to understand what was happening here.

"Fortunately for us, on the same day your mother brought me a box, your father signed some very important paperwork. That which makes you the sole heir of the estate and by this action the holder of several wizengamot seats. Namely Potter, Peverell and Penhallow."

Harry had never heard the second two names but since Phillip clearly thought this was good news he decided to wait it out.

"Normally when a young person holds a Wizengamot seat it is managed by their guardian who will sit on their behalf until they come of age. There is an exception to this. When the person inherits the seat within 13 months of their 17th birthday they have two paths to choose from. The first, to take a guardian to care for them, their estates and seats until they come of age. The second, to assume their majority early and take their seats, thus entering adult. This is because as I said before, wizards don't like anyone to interfere in their affairs. The estate of a person whom is nearly of age need not be exposed to another unnecessarily under these laws. The same choice would be given to any young wizard who might find himself without a guardian in this crucial period…."

He trailed off. Harry was once again struck dumb, his mind wandering in circles around the possibility before him.

"You must understand Harry that this is not something to be done lightly. You are still at school and becoming an adult will give you responsibilities far beyond most of your peers. You would need to sit on the Wizengamot regularly or employ someone whom you can trust who will do so for you. There are several high class functions per year that are terribly stuffy and cannot be avoided by most means. You will also need to contact Gringotts and educate yourself in the matters of your family's investments and businesses. Also it does not mean that you will be afforded the rights of an adult immediately. As a member of the Wizengamot you will automatically have wand rights as these are needed to both swear you oath and vote. But other laws – drinking for example, are age sensitive for a reason and remain in place the same as any other young witch or wizard."

Harry acknowledged this, but he had already made his decision. He would sit on the Wizengamot and learn about stocks if it meant he could tell Dumbledore where to shove it from time to time.

"I want to do it. I can let Dumbledore keep on ruling my life. If he keeps at it he'll kill me and will probably have ensured himself the rights to my estate and unborn kids to boot."

Phillip nodded in agreement. "There's not really a second option. We couldn't find you a safe guardian at this time without Dumbledore being in a position to manipulate them."

A sudden thought struck Harry. "You don't happen to know where Dumbledore might have got £1000 a month to give the Dursley's for the last 15 years?"

"As it happens I do." Came the response. "In relation to your estates my job title is in fact Bursar and head of Grounds. This means I oversee both the family properties and the bank accounts as well as anything investment wise that needs legal advice and paperwork. I'll be wanting to see Mr and Mr Weasley sometime soon in that matter. However as I have had no guardian to answer to in the last 15 years I have had no means to make amendments to the accounts. As it stands the investments are healthy and while a few could have done with some assistance they have for the most part been in no need of revision so all is well. However I am aware of a payment of 1000 Galleons a month leaving your trust account to the account of one " _Brian Dumbledore""_.

Harry snorted in disbelief.

"Hardly a puzzle is it? Now be aware Harry, these to currencies do not directly convert so that amasses to around £5000 a month in muggle money, far more than your relatives receive. It is my belief Dumbledore may have coerced the goblins into setting up this payment using his illegal guardianship papers. It has not since been questioned by anyone connected to the estate so they will not have stopped it, assuming all is above board. Dumbledore's paying himself a nice little stipend on top of your rent at the Dursley's and one has to wonder what he's doing with it. The Dumbledore's are not a poor family by any means, I doubt 800 Galleons a month makes much impact on them. But never fear, we can get it back. Goblins are proud creatures and will not like to understand that they've been dubbed. I'm sure they'll be all too willing to retrieve your hard earned funds from Mr Dumbledore's account once they learn that there was never any legal basis for its transfer."

Harry was doing the maths very rapidly in his head. Dumbledore had paid himself 144,000 Galleons of Harry's money. £720,000 out of a child's trust fund. Just this morning Harry had been letting himself feel guilty about going behind Dumbledore's back like this, but no longer!

"Now this leaves us in something of a sticky situation. When you were an infant I took it upon myself to investigate the security measures in place around privet drive. If I am correct the wards that have been placed are somewhat simpler than you have been led to believe. First of all you must understand that every muggle has some degree of magic within them. This is normally less than 1%. Not enough for them to access their magical core, but a wizard could access it on their behalf and in essence "tie" simple spells, or in this case a ward, to someone such as your aunt. It's this unfortunate practice that allows slightly stronger muggles to "learn" magic through quick spell courses. Of course they don't actually learn anything. The wizard simply trains the magical core to recognise and react to a few simple commands. A squibs magical core would not be able adapt to more than four or five basic charms and they would not be able to retain any more beyond that."

"Dumbledore told you a blood ward is held by your aunts presence correct?"

Harry nodded.

"I will go as far as to say that that is an outright lie. Blood magic is a very complex and powerful magic. Certainly no muggle core could manage the strain of holding up such a ward, it would kill them in a matter of hours at most. I also found no trace of any foreign magic on you when I checked you as an infant. However it holds true that Voldemort has been unable to locate you. It is my belief that this is in fact his problem. He cannot locate you. I had more than a small amount of trouble myself and only succeeded when I insisted upon Dumbledore taking me to the property. As bursar to your estates he could not refuse me, I told him I required a small amount of your blood to set up your trust fund and that I would only take this sample myself to ensure no contamination. Not actually a lie on my part but it served a secondary purpose to allow me to check up on your situation. We now know Dumbledore needed this action completed to allow him to pay your relatives and so he accompanied me to Privet Drive. But… I digress… the ward placed upon your aunt is as simple as four runes. And these four runes together make an unplottable ward that covers your neighbourhood. About two square miles in total but it means Voldemort cannot find you. I'm fairly certain he's fully aware of your address, he just has no means to access it. Outside of that range he could just as easily pick you off in the street, the ward will not carry as Dumbledore has led you to believe."

"So why is this a problem?" Harry asked.

"Dumbledore told you that the protections only hold as long as you call the property home. There is a large chance this is also a falsity. What is more likely is that Dumbledore placed a rune within the pattern and created a certain type of ward commonly known as a "nanny ward". It is normally used by families within houses or to cover estates with large gardens. It does exactly as it sounds and ensures the children are hidden safely within the estate. A young master may play Quiddich in his back yard, and that yard may be in the middle of a muggle housing estate, yet the muggle remains none the wiser because the magic is hidden. Have you ever studied runes Harry?"

Harry shook his head, thoroughly wishing he had whilst simultaneously wishing Hermione was there to keep up with all this.

"Runes are complex in the long term but there is a base system, a sort of alphabet or in fact multiple alphabets, that allow you within them to build structures. Words if you like. So in this case Dumbledore places the complex structure of the ward on your aunt, but the trigger, the basic structural command, is you Harry. The ward is triggered when you are in the area. When you are not, it is inactive. I daresay at this moment your relatives are left entirely unprotected from Voldemort."

"You said you found nothing on me?"

"Indeed. And I didn't. The rune is not on your person so it is likely to be on something that is frequently on your person. Something that on occasion Dumbledore can accesses perhaps without your knowledge to renew the enchantment. I wonder Harry, if you would be so kind as to pass me your glasses."

Harry did so, moving closer to watch enthralled while Phillip chanted a strange incantation which caused an orb of blue light to appear and float above his desk. Into this he dropped Harry's glasses, which bobbed in the centre as if moved by invisible waves. Harry was surprised when the colour of the orb started to change from blue to red in some areas.

"You see four runes on the frame of the glasses. The one in the centre is the ward trigger. The one on the left arm is in fact a tracking rune making it likely Dumbledore knows where you are and that we ought to get on and sign some paperwork. And the one on the right… if I'm not mistaken it is a loyalty charm. The fourth on the back, give me a moment…" he pulled a large tome with a Latin title from a shelf behind him.

Harry's mind was elsewhere however and he didn't ponder to hard. At the announcement of a loyalty charm he had first gagged and then immediately choked on fresh air in an unspectacular manner and he was now trying to recover himself. Wonder who it is I'm supposed to be loyal too, sang his sarcastic inner voice.

"That's all very nice but how would Dumbledore have my glasses? I can barely see without them, trust me I'd notice if someone took them."

"Never been unconscious in the hospital wing for a few days Harry? This last rune is rather unusual however. Come to think of it do you have any memory of coming by your glasses at all or where they just always there? I can't help but notice they're rather old fashioned. Out of touch with muggle trends, but quite in line with wizarding ones."

Harry thought and as he did so realised that he had no idea where his glasses had come from. He had no memory of ever being taken to an optician by the Dursley's. Nor had he ever had new glasses, yet he must have grown in the 15 years he had been with the Dursley's and they had always fit his face.

"I don't think you need these glasses Harry. I think this fourth rune might be a blurring charm. Notice that it is on the back of the frame in the centre, an area of the frame that is in almost constant contact with your skin. I think that where you to stop wearing them for a few days you might find you don't need them at all. It is important that you know that by removing the rune that triggers the ward your home at Privet drive is now left entirely unprotected."

To say Harry was flabbergasted was a long way off the mark. He was lost. He couldn't understand what benefit there was for Dumbledore to make him blind. Having already been told Dumbledore had already stolen his inheritance and his right to a happy family life and wilfully endangered his life on more than one occasion, Harry was more than a little bit wounded to find out Dumbledore felt it necessary to take his sight on top off all of that. The anger he had been feeling whilst trapped at the Dursley's was slowly growing into an insurmountable wall of rage. He was beginning to understand the phrase "seeing red" because it was literally happening to him.

Whilst Harry had been sat quietly trying to work some kind of calm back into himself, Phillip had been moving about the office. He had pulled a folder made of thick manila parchment out of a filing cabinet and had now laid out several pieces of parchment facing Harry. He handed Harry a quill.

"Now, the first of these is an acknowledgment and acceptance of your parents will. There is a second part to this that you will also need to sign to enable it to take effect. You and I will pay a visit to Gringotts tomorrow to get that done and that will give you full access to your accounts."

Harry signed his name on two lines indicated by Phillip, squinting through his fogged eyes. Next to his scrawling signature where similar scrawls which he had to assume belonged to his parents. There was a fourth that marked Phillip as the witness.

"This second is the paperwork from your parents giving their permission for you to be handed your Wizengamot seats as a minor. You must read this statement…."

Harry read. It simply stated that he understood what he was signing and would fully take on the responsibility of an adult within the Wizengamot. He signed.

"And now that you have signed this you must sign these." Phillip handed him the last three papers.

"These documents are the deeds to your Wizengamot seat. When you have signed them your official title will be Lord Harry James Penhallow Peverell Potter. Ah ha. No." Phillip took the quill from Harry and handed him another. "You've met one of these before. You'll need to sign those in your own blood, the proper use for such quills."

Harry signed three times, wincing as each cut took hold on the back of his hand, many memories of Umbridge fighting to take hold in his mind.

"Now then. These actions have rendered you independent but I must press upon you again the enforcement of age related laws. You do now of course have wand rights. Do you have your wand?"

"Of course."

"It would be a good idea to cast a small charm. Please levitate and hold this parchment." Phillip produced a small square similar to a post-it note from his desk drawer. Harry did as he was bid, utterly confused, causing Phillip to laugh at him.

"This action should both trigger and break the magical trace on your wand. Normally your wand would trigger an alarm that would alert a ministry official to your use of magic. This paper is ministry issued to persons in legal positions such as myself. It takes a scan of the wand and restrictions upon it and sends an updated reading to the ministerial records office. Wizengamot deeds themselves are linked directly to the same ministry office and so your signature and acceptance will already exist in their records and should send a return charm that will remove the trace. Just stay still a few moments longer.

Harry did so. About twenty seconds later his wand gave an audible click and a flash and the parchment dropped back onto the desk. Now Harry had another question.

"If these papers alert the ministry, and Dumbledore is head of the Wizengamot, will he already know I've taken my titles?"

"Unlikely. Ministry records of Lords are fully confidential until such time as they decide to make them public. So Dumbledore will be told with the rest of the Wizengamot when you decide to tell them. There are several sessions of the Wizengamot per month, with a compulsory full attendance on the last Friday of each month. Legally you must inform the Wizengamot at one of these full sessions and before the start of the next fiscal year. To be clear your final opportunity to tell them before you break the law will be Friday the 28th of December. Before the new fiscal year starts on the 1st of January. If you chose to employ a representative then you must introduce them at a full session before they can assume your seats."

"Now I have given you much to think on. Remember that there is no longer a protection over your muggle home. I would recommend that you move them immediately, preferably to somewhere both Voldemort and Dumbledore cannot find them. You are free tomorrow?"

Harry confirmed he was.

"I will meet you in Diagon Alley at 11am and we will pay the goblins a visit. There will be some paperwork to sign, and then I'm sure your goblin account manager will want to educate you about your accounts and properties. It would be prudent if this evening you could look over that black file in your mother's box. Preferably with your parents who will be able to talk you through any questions you might have and that will save you both time and confusion with the goblins. Just a moment please."

Phillip was rattling about a large wooden box in the corner. He pressed several buttons and then scribbled something onto a piece of parchment which he dropped into the box. Several minutes later he returned to Harry holding a muggle penny.

"This is a portkey. It will return you to Camberley station which I believe is near to home."

"I thought you needed a licence to make a portkey?" Harry asked.

"Indeed you do. Or one of these lovely contraptions that allows you to request one from the Department for Magical Transport. Luckily they work 24 hours."

Harry glanced at his watch and found that it was almost 8pm. He had been there for nearly five hours!

"Sheesh" said Harry "Vernons going to murder me if I'm much later."

"Very well. The portkey will take you to the Leaky Cauldron at 10.45am. Once again – bring your file. And send your relatives on holiday until we can find a safer place for them"

Harry thanked Phillip profusely for both his time and his past actions which had ensured Harrys current new found freedom. He triggered the portkey with a simple phrase – cabbage – and was gone from the office.

* * *

Several hundred miles away in the highlands of Scotland Albus Dumbledore sat in his office at Hogwarts and sighed in frustration.

Harry Potter had done quite a number on his office before he left school for the summer and Dumbledore was still working through the mess and fixing his various instruments. He had managed to put most of the priceless artefacts back together, but was having particular trouble with one instrument. It happened to be a very important instrument because it was in charge of monitoring the current whereabouts of Harry Potter himself.

Dumbledore scratched his head and thought. He had been looking at it for the past several hours and it was insisting Harry was in the north west of London when Dumbledore was certain he was actually in south west of London in Surrey. He had had Mundungus Fletcher check up on Harry just on Sunday evening and he had been safely ensconced in his relative's home. Fletcher had said the boy was sulking and morose. Dumbledore very much doubted the boy had enough sense to go anywhere. Why would he when he had free rein to throw a month long pity party? Teenage boys were so predictable!

Dumbledore sighed again and placed the instrument back on its shelf. He would have to take steps to make a new one in the next few weeks, but it wasn't urgent. He was certain in his knowledge of the boy that he was unlikely to take any action beyond extreme sulking.

Turning his mind to other matters Albus Dumbledore went to find himself a late dinner, not noticing as the instrument clicked and the light died from beneath it, its subject permanently disconnected. Back in London Phillip Burchard had just dropped an old pair of glassed into a metal waste can and said but one word…. Incendio!


	5. The Family Portfolio

Disclaimer: All recognisable works and characters of course belong to JKR. I am just borrowing them and make no profit.

* * *

Harry arrived back in Little Whinging feeling significantly more paranoid than when he had left. He now knew it was only a matter of time before Voldemort discovered the wards were gone and came for him. He was still contemplating how to break the news to the Dursley's. Even Harry had to admit while he wasn't their biggest fan, he wouldn't wish Voldemort on anyone. Not even Malfoy.

Turning onto Privet Drive he decided he needed to man up and just tell them. He took some of his inspiration from Dumbledore. If Dumbledore could leave letters hanging around telling people they were going to be murdered imminently then Harry could make similar threats! Decision made he decided to get it over with. He was relieved to find the front door unlocked, there was no need to make Vernon grumpy before he started.

"Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia" Harry called, entering the downstairs hallway and finding the house mysteriously quiet. He heard a grunt from the living room and found Vernon in there stood on a ladder drilling a new curtain rail into the wall. His conversation with Phillip had completely driven this morning's Dudley destruction from his mind. All evidence of the smashed TV was gone but at least it explained the eerie quiet. Then Petunia poked her long neck around the kitchen door.

"What can you possibly want now? Can't you see your uncle is busy?"

"Actually, I need to speak to you both urgently."

"Boy, I do not have time for your nonsense" bellowed Vernon "there has been enough nonsense in this house for one day."

Harry chose to ignore this. Instead he took his wand from his arm holster, pointing it toward Vernon, who rapidly lost the colour in his face. Harry cast a joining charm which moulded the curtain rail into the wall. He also cast several reparo spells over some little piles of Petunias smashed ornaments and two cleaning charms to remove coffee stains from both the sofa and Petunias favourite Persian rug.

"I…. But…. You, you, you, you can't. Your school. They'll expel you!" Petunia finally caved in and brought the rest of her body into the living room.

"My school can't expel me. I'm now legally an adult. That's what we need to talk about."

This did not go down well. Vernon when from sheet white to puce in record time. Harry hadn't seen him this mad since Hagrid turned up at the hut on the rock.

"You needn't think, boy, that whatever freakish, weirdo law makes a 15 year old brat an adult is going to work in my home. You are not going to come here, into my home, and threaten my family with that stick no matter how old you think you are."

Harry had to work to keep the bored, disinterested look on his face. He'd never thought Vernon was likely to sit down and have a pleasant conversation about magic and wizard politics with him without a fight. That's why he'd chosen this angle.

"That's fine Uncle. I'll be leaving here tomorrow and not coming back. Partially I'll be leaving because I don't like you." Harry stopped to let it settle and then continued. "But mostly I'll be leaving because the dark wizard who murdered my parents is back and coming to get me. And by extension you. But of course I won't bother you with the details."

Harry left the room, counted to ten in the silence, then went back in.

"Of course I should tell you the warding my esteemed headmaster promised you was a lie and this house is completely unprotected. It would be a really good idea to go somewhere else. Goodnight." Harry left the room and this time went immediately to his room. Now all he had to do was wait.

Just over half an hour later there was a knock on his door. Harry opened it to find Petunia looking pale and agitated.

"Would you come downstairs please? Your uncle and I would like to speak with you."

Harry followed her down the stairs without question. He found Vernon in the living room once again smoking a cigar. There was still no sign of Dudley.

"Explain." Vernon addressed Harry with only one word.

"Well" Harry began. "Today I learned that I was never meant to be here. My parents left ample provision for me to have a home elsewhere and were fully aware themselves that you didn't want me. Albus Dumbledore abducted me from the scene of my parent's death and left me here on your doorstep with an envelope full of threats and bribes. I was contacted by my family solicitor and given a choice to make. I'm not going to bore you with the details. What you need to know is the safety wards Dumbledore promised you only existed when I was in the house. At any other time you have been left unguarded. What you also need to know is the decision I made this afternoon resulted in those wards being removed entirely. What I said earlier is true, the dark lord is back and out to kill me. I'm fairly certain it is only a matter of time before he turns up here now the protections are down. I'm telling you this to give you a fair chance. When you go to Marge I suggest you stay away. I will tell you when the war is over, assuming I survive it."

Harry stopped. There was an extended silence. Petunia was staring at him wide eyed and pale and Vernon was flashing between his favoured shade of puce and a sickly green.

"Are you telling me my family is in danger boy?" Vernon finally croaked. Harry gave him nothing but a nod.

"And you intend to walk away without so much as a backward glance?" Again Harry just nodded. Vernon had a peculiar look on his face.

"Tell me boy how is it that your family needs to employ a solicitor? Seems to be a little unusual, unless you've got a lot of money or property."

Harry could see where this was going and was not going to allow it. There was a slowly building rage causing a burning sensation in his chest but he prevented himself from yelling at Vernon. Instead he took a deep breath and made himself look Vernon straight in the eye and said in a low, steady voice.

"Uncle, I have not had a happy home in this household. You've starved me, beaten me, and deprived me of the very basics of any love or understanding that any child needs to grow. I would point out to you that between the ages of two and ten I can recall more than 500 occasions on which you locked me in my cupboard for a longer than a 24 hour period without food or access to a bathroom. On more that 200 of those occasions you subsequently beat me for wetting or defecating myself. There are still belt marks on my back that prove it. I can recall 33 periods between the ages of five and seven when you though the best means of punishing me was to deprive me of food for a 7 day period. I recall this practice only stopping because my school teacher threatened to call the authorities after I passed out from dehydration. I recall multiple occasions on which you encouraged your son to hit, kick, bite or otherwise harm me while you watched and laughed. Of these occasions I specifically recall Dudley attempting to drown me in the bath, hang me with a skipping rope and force feed me dog mess he had removed from Rippers sand toilet. I recall no less than seventeen occasions when you have beaten, starved or otherwise punished me for injuring myself. I recall being beaten as a six year old for cutting my knee and making a mess in the kitchen. I recall cooking, cleaning and being treated like a skivvy from the moment I was old enough to hold a broom. Up until the age of eleven I never owned a single new piece of clothing and had never had a pair of shoes that fit me. I cannot swim or ride a bike, I have never had a birthday party and you have never given me a proper Christmas gift. I have not in my living memory visited a doctor or a dentist."

Harry stopped to catch his breath. Vernon opened his mouth, but Harry wasn't done.

"Yes. I have money. I have property. I even have power. Hell, this afternoon I became a Lord. My name is Lord Potter. You're not getting a penny of it and I'm not going to help you run away from Voldemort. Given that over the past fifteen years Albus Dumbledore took the liberty to give you no less than £180,000 of my money, you can use that to help yourselves, and if you've spent it, too bad. I don't care and no amount of yelling at me or making demands is going to change that. I've warned you only so I can say I told you so and not feel bad when you die. I'm going from here at 10:30 tomorrow morning and I won't be coming back. I advise you to do the same. I'd say I'm sorry and that I'd miss you but I supposed you did at least raise me not to tell lies. Goodnight Uncle, Aunt. And goodbye. I hope for your sake you run far enough."

Harry left the room. His little rant had been strangely cathartic and he felt a lot better about life. Telling Dumbledore that he had been miserable at the Dursley's was unlikely to make the man sorry, so he would have to settle for this and hope that the Dursley's managed to meet their sticky end without meeting Voldemort.

* * *

Following his long and stressful day, Harry ate dinner in his trunk (Lily had informed Harry that the family owned no less than 128 house elves and though he'd met none of them he found a dinner of Carbonara, garlic bread and salad waiting for him on the dining table.) and spent a pleasant evening with his parents and Sirius going through the file. His father called it the Family Portfolio and it made for an interesting read.

The Potter line could be traced back over 1100 hundred years and had been accepted as "pure blood" as early as 1050AD His father told him that rumours were frequently thrown about that the Potters owned the land that Hogwarts stood on and thus by magical law, Hogwarts herself, though nobody could prove this as there were no deeds locatable that related to the castle. They remained for the most part a pure blood family. Lily was one of only 6 muggle born marry-ins in the entire family tree. Harry would need to have a well-bred grandchild in order for the line to be considered fully pure blooded again. He couldn't care less either way and neither could his parents.

He learnt that in fact the Potters had only been Potters for about 400 years, before that they were Penhallow until about 750 years ago, and before that Peverell. This was because they were not of paternal linage like a lot of pureblood lines – if Harry had been Harriet, she still would have inherited, though the family name would have changed name upon marriage. It was sheer coincidence that on the two occasions this had happened all of the names began with P, however it was irrelevant because it was the blood not the name that carried the Lordship.

"So how is it if that's all one line, we still have Wizengamot seats in all three names?" asked Harry.

"Someone did something." Was his father's very helpful answer. Seeing Harry's blank expression he continued.

"Somebody, presumably a direct grandfather or mother, done something that made them eligible for a knighthood or lordship and the seat will have come with it which is then inherited along the line. There is no limit to the number of seats a family can hold, but they cannot be held under the same name. I believe the Peverell seat was held by a grandfather who already held one in the name Potter. The number of seats on the Wizengamot depends on the number of living lines that hold a knight ship or lordship. At the time of my death this number was 96 seats held by 52 families. You can lose the seat, normally through death of the line or public disgrace. Or you can on occasion sell it, if the Wizengamot as a whole votes to agree with the receiver. When I was young your friend Arthur Weasley sold his seat to one Lucius Malfoy. It was a matter of feeding his children I believe."

"So what happens if you have more seats than names?" asked Harry.

"You make up a new one and pass it on to your next born child or grandchild. Obviously only if it's a second born, the first gets the family name." Sirius snorted. "How to secure the future of your country…. make stuff up to fill in the gaps…. That's the British ministry all over that is…" he trailed off and continued to chuckle merrily to himself.

To say Harry was stunned was an understatement. He was also rapidly learning that he knew next to nothing about high society in the wizarding world. Lily directed him toward several books in the library that covered basic etiquette and political structures. Harry collected them and thus started a stack on the Kitchen table that would become a mountain over the next several weeks. Lily told Harry a bit more about the family libraries. There were four based in London, New York, Beijing and Sydney and between them they held upwards of half a million books. An ancient relative of the Potters had something of an obsession with collecting and the library had got quite out of hand. Lily thought that you would find probably a fifth of them in the school library and another fifth would be easily obtained in normal wizarding society if you knew where to look. Of the rest there was varying degrees of rarity having been collected over a period of more than 800 years, some of them were obsolete in magical terms, magic having moved on, but had value for the authors or the history. The ones that had made it into the trunk were deemed to be both useful and genuinely unique.

In all, Harry was a very rich wizard. The Potter's had made their fortune not in magic or potions, but in the provision of magical wines and spirits. Harry actually owned 16 properties and 8 of these had been strategically purchased to provide land that would grow strong orchards, barley and wheat. There were properties in France, Spain, Portugal, Italy, Chile, Australia, California and Brazil. Harry also owned a country property just north of London as well as several more urban estates near Moscow, Beijing, New York, Toronto, Lagos and Mumbai. He also owned a small island off the coast of Venezuela.

On top of the large investment in the business the Potter's held stocks and shares in no less than 30 different organisations. Of these they had made a point of owning at a minimum 30% of the business and in more than a third they owned 70% or more. His father explained that the majority of these had a board or panel that made the major decisions and that again, Harry was going to need to appoint someone to deal with all this for him. Harry was pleased to learn he held a few shares in some of his favourites – Honeydukes, Zonkos and Florish & Blotts to name a few. He was also less than impressed to learn that he owned a good percentage of the Prophet… until Sirius pointed out its benefits.

"You own enough of that thing to change your own life. All the bad things it writes about you? History. Dodgy story about your love life? Veto it. Page of acid written by Rita Skita? Make an appeal to sack her. This is a good thing Harry." Harry had to agree having though about it logically.

The biggest shock Harry got were the Gringotts accounts. There were four: his trust fund, the business account, the investment account and the Wizengamot Account. The top page was a summary statement of current balance of all accounts:

TRUST FUND: MASTER HARRY J POTTER 26,500g

PERSONAL BUSSINESS ACCOUNT: MR & MRS J POTTER 244,000,000g

PERSONAL INVESTMENT ACCOUNT: MR & MRS J POTTER 575,000,000g

WIZENGAMOT ENDOWMENT: LORD J C POTTER 139,612,500g

 **SUMMARY OF ALL ACCOUNTS: 958,639,000G**

Harry stared at the parchment for several minutes, rapidly checking the maths over and over and not trusting his voice, or his eyes. 958,639,000 million galleons! He was almost a billionaire. Harry knew this was all relevant. One thing he had learnt in his time in the wizarding world was that smaller communities meant more expensive goods and services. There was a magical community of about 64,000 in the UK and they were all quite spread out. Mr Weasley had once told him wizarding population made up about 0.1% of the total population of the earth, but that meant very little in bulk production. When the Weasleys were struggling for money they were really struggling, to the point that even staple foods like bread and milk were a stretch because there wasn't likely to be anyone mass producing them to push the price down.

Harry decided the ledgers in the portfolio must have been self-updating, the one for his trust fund showing the last withdrawal Mrs Weasley made from the account last summer. There were also several withdrawals marked as school fees, and Harry could see the 1000g a month leaving his account for Dumbledore's. Harry asked about the school fees, firstly not realising he paid any and secondly not trusting anything that got anywhere near Dumbledore. His mother explained:

"School fees are staggered. A rich family such as ours holding Lordships and Wizengamot seats is expected to pay higher fees. In fact you pay the top fee of 2500g per term. Understand Harry, that Hogwarts is a not for profit organisation. You pay for your food, board and any materials used… and you probably pay enough for both of your friends Ron and Ginny to go to school without paying a Knut. There's no such thing as the welfare state in the magical world but this ensures everybody gets an education. It's one of the terms if you want to go to Hogwarts." Said Lily.

James continued.

"Anyway the trust fund will probably be merged in with the family account tomorrow when you've finished at the bank, or whenever they finish collecting money back off Dumbledore, so don't concern yourself with it. The family account is the one with the Wizengamot title. That's the one we use for day to day transactions. The Wizengamot pays you 1000g a day for each seat held – so in actuality we get 1,095,000g a year income from our seats. Of course this is logical, realistically a Lord who was representing himself will not have much time for other work. Should you chose someone to represent you the standard pay is normally 50% of the income from one seat, so roughly 182,500g per year."

Harry finally went to bed at around 3:30am, content that he at least understood his situation a little and would not make a total fool out of himself at the bank tomorrow.

* * *

The next morning Harry was late to rise. He had meant to go for a run again but the late start, mid-morning appointment and the fact that both of his legs felt ready to collapse if he attempted such a thing meant he gave up on the idea. Hopping into the shower at 9am and still in a bit of a zombie state Harry didn't notice all of the strange noises coming from the house around him until he was about half way done.

Switching off the water Harry dried and off and dressed quickly, this time into a pair of too big jeans and a polo shirt. He would put on a school robe just as soon as he made it into the magical world. Curious to find out what was going on he travelled down the stairs without issue but got trapped in the hallway by two men trying to wrangle Petunia's Welsh Dresser out through the porch at an interesting angle. From the lack of shouting around him Harry assumed someone knew this was happening and they weren't being burgled. Peering out of the hallway window he spotted a large removals truck. It would seem the Dursley's had taken his warning to heart and were leaving Privet Drive for a while. Harry didn't know why that made him feel better, but it did.

Harry went back to his room. He'd done his best job of packing last night but he had been tired. This morning he checked every drawer and cupboard, under his bed and inside the loose floorboard where he hid his wand. At last satisfied that the room was empty Harry stood and took one last look around. He wouldn't miss this place and wasn't sad to be going. He wondered if anyone would remember they needed to pack up the shelves full of all Dudley's broken possessions. Harry poked Hedwig until she woke, nipping at his finger in disgust and giving him her best one eyed glare.

"Don't look at me in that tone of hoot. We have to go. Go to Ron's and stay there until I come for you." Hedwig continued to stare at him until he poked her again, then reluctantly puffed up and hopped out of her cage. Shutting the window behind her for the final time, Harry dropped the cage into the top section of his trunk before closing it up. He shrunk it down to its smallest size and clipped the key chain onto his belt.

Making his way downstairs Harry took a moment to visit his cupboard, just for old times' sake. The dirty, tatty cot he had slept on until the age of 11 was still there, as was the wonky bedside cabinet that had served as his only form of storage for so many years. Harry lifted the cot, checking underneath in the area where his school trunk has so often been locked up over the summers. There was nothing there. After today there would be no sign that there had ever been magic at number 4 Privet Drive.

Harry went into the kitchen and helped himself to fruit and yoghurt from a partially packed box left on the counter. He ate quickly and cleaned up after himself, hiding all trace of his small meal. He looked around the ground floor but could not find any trace of his aunt or uncle. He hadn't seen Dudley since he'd stormed out of there the previous day. Harry was silently glad. He hadn't wanted a goodbye conversation with any of them, fully aware that they couldn't care less where he went or what happened to him. Harry potter left privet drive for the last time, making his way to the park where as a child he had spent many hours hiding from Dudley and avoiding going home. He walked into a small woodland area and took a seat on a picturesque bench that overlooked a small pond. At 10.45 he took the penny portkey from his pocket and activated it and with that he was gone.


	6. At Gringotts

Disclaimer: All recognisable works and characters of course belong to JKR. I am just borrowing them and make no profit.

* * *

Harry found himself in the courtyard at the back door of the Leaky Cauldron. It was a grey and grizzly day, sticky with heat as if a storm was on the way. Harry was grateful for this as it made hiding much easier. He put on his school robe and pulled up his hood, ducking into the back porch of the pub to wait for Phillip. He didn't have to wait for long.

"Good morning Harry" they shook hands. Phillip looked Harry over with a critical eye. "That won't do."

Harry found himself on the receiving end of several knocks on the head with Phillips wand, followed by the strange itching sensation he usually associated with a disillusionment charm, only this time it seemed to focus intensely around his face and hair. Obviously pleased with his work Phillip turned Harry around to look at his reflection in the window behind them. Instead of his usual pale skin and dark hair, Harry was faced with a blue eyed boy with platinum blond hair and a caramel tan. His school robe had also transformed to a dark navy and had lost all of its Hogwarts markers He was instantly reminded of Malfoy and had to admit the other boy wore it better, minus the tan.

Still, it served a purpose and wasn't permanent. Harry waited as Phillip opened the portal into the alley and they made their way swiftly toward Gringotts. It was an easy passage to say the least. Harry had not set foot in the magical world outside of Hogwarts since The Prophet had confirmed the news of Voldemort's return and as yet had no first-hand experience of the impact it had had on society at large. At this time of year Diagon Alley was normally full to bursting with kids out and about enjoying the school holidays and they should have had to fight their way through the crowds, but today it was quiet. Quiet to the point of almost silent and Harry didn't think there were more than 200 people in the entire street. Making his way up the stairs to Gringotts Harry though nothing of the usual goblin guards on either side of the door. That was until he found the head of an axe less than a millimetre from the end of his nose causing him to come to an abrupt halt.

"State your names and business" the goblin barked at them.

"Kuur Huukhaar. Maagaan duun zerer ac Aluuc Ghakarlaar" replied Phillip. Harry once again found himself making guppy faces. He had heard the rough language of the goblins in the past of course, but had never heard it spoken by a human and of course, it was literally Gobbledygook to him.

"Or huur. Or zach maan?" Came the return demand. Phillip turned to Harry.

"Your vault keys. Quickly!" he stated. Harry fished in his pocket and pulled out the little gold key to his trust fund. He now had three larger keys that went along with this other vaults. Phillip showed these to the goblin and Harry found that the axe tip was swiftly removed from the end of his nose, the great brass doors beyond thrown open.

"What did he say?" Harry whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Not much. He wanted proof of ID. I thought it better not to yell your name in public just yet." Harry nodded his understanding.

The normally busy lobby of Gringotts was silent, the piles of coins and gems being moved around by goblins on their high marble counters was the only real sound and made it seem like a dozen giant clocks were all ticking out of time in the cavernous hall. They approached the nearest free teller and with a nod from Phillip, Harry simply placed his vault keys onto the desk. The goblin raised on crazy, tangled eyebrow at him, searching his face for that most likely of identifiers, Harrys scar.

"Sir." Philip addressed the goblin quietly. "Your utmost discretion is appreciated in this matter."

The goblin turned to look at Phillip and Harry thought there was a flash of recognition causing him to wonder just how many noble houses Phillip acted for. After a moment the goblin dropped his gaze.

"Very well, follow me."

The goblin clambered down off his high stool and led them toward a door on the right side of the room. Harry was surprised to find not caves and tracks behind the door but a hallway constructed of more white marble. If possible this hall was even more elaborate than the front lobby, the high ceiling appeared to be made of gold and there were multiple crystal chandeliers. They walked a fair distance, Harry thought for at least three minutes, before being directed into a room on the right.

"Have a seat, Major Draagesh will be with you shortly." The goblin instructed. He left.

Harry and Phillip took the two chairs in front of an ornate desk that stood in the centre of the large room. Not marble this time but some kind of dark rock Harry took to be granite. The room was large and perfectly square. There was absolutely nothing in it except the desk and the contents upon it. Behind the desk there was a large window looking out on a mountainous landscape that Harry didn't recognise, but that certainly wasn't London. Phillip took the opportunity to first of all relieve Harry of his disguise, and then brief him on a few matters.

"Mr Draagesh is your account manager here. He's been looking after the estate for around 40 years now. First of all you will need to sign for you family accounts. Then we will enlighten him about our little problem with Mr Dumbledore. Then of course there is the matter of your late godfathers will."

Harry flinched in shock. In all of this the fact that Sirius would have left him anything, or indeed had anything to leave, had never entered Harry's mind. Nor had it been mentioned during the meeting yesterday and Sirius himself (or at least his portrait) had made no mention of it. Harry was about to ask what Phillip knew about the matter when the door behind them opened. Phillip stood up quickly and Harry followed suit, panicked by the sudden movement.

A large goblin entered carrying a large red file under one arm. He was bigger than any goblin Harry had ever seen in all his visits to Gringotts. He strode forward, stood before Harry and bowed. Feeling a fool for not knowing what else to do Harry bowed in return. This was apparently the correct thing to do as the goblin turned, walked to the other side of the pair and repeated the process with Phillip before moving to take his seat behind the desk.

"Well met Lord Potter." The goblin addressed Harry. "My name is Major Shull'dec Draagesh. We have been awaiting your visit for some time and I was pleased to receive notification from Phillip last evening that you have been able to finally collect your titles. If I might speak with your representation for a moment." Harry gave his permission.

"Phillip, please appraise me of the current situation."

Phillip gave the goblin a fast run through of the meeting he and Harry had had the day before as well as confirming Harry had signed for his accounts and had taken his wand rights. As expected, the goblin was quite put out at Phillips suggestion that Dumbledore had duped the goblins with his grand schemes and was indeed now shuffling through the large red file he had brought in and muttering to himself. They sat in silence and watched him for a good few minutes.

"Lord Potter" the goblin addressed Harry suddenly. "I must apologise on behalf of Gringotts. It would appear we have been careless with your accounts. We will of course do everything within our power to correct this post haste."

"There is no need to apologise Sir. Albus Dumbledore has been the cause of many problems in my life and this is one of the minor issues. I would never seek to hold Gringotts accountable for the old man's interference." This must have been the right thing to say as the goblin gave a malicious grin.

"Indeed." The Goblin responded. "That man causes me a migraine on an almost weekly basis." He did not elaborate on this and Harry didn't dare ask.

"Now then, to the matter of you estates." Draagesh continued. He laid out several pieces of parchment in three columns before adding a fourth single parchment at the end. He then picked up a large, curved glass stone that Harry had taken to be a paperweight and placed it before Harry.

"Place your left hand on the teller and repeat after me please."

Harry did as he was told.

"I Lord Harry James Potter… (Harry copied him)…. Do hereby swear…. That I am the rightful and sole heir…. Of the lines Potter, Penhallow, Peverell… and that by this declaration…. I do claim my full entitlement…. To Lordship of the estates of House Potter."

The goblin watched the stone intently. Harry held his breath, unsure of what the goblin was expecting. Thus far there had been no indicator from the object that it was anything other than a bit of glass. Harry continued to stare getting more and more nervous by the second and wondering if there had been a huge mistake in his identity. Eventually there was a low humming sound and the glass began to glow with a low gold light. Within this light there were also patches of blue and red that were growing steadily larger. Harry didn't know what it meant, but Draagesh was grinning again so he allowed himself to relax a little.

"Excellent" Draagesh finally spoke after about five minutes when the colours within the object had stopped moving. "First of all, you will need your own estates. Then we will deal with the rest."

Harry didn't even know if he wanted to know what "the rest" entailed. He was handed a quill with no ink, similar to the one Umbridge had used on him. The goblin asked him to sign his name on no at least 20 separate pieces of parchment, explaining as they went along what each was for. The lordship title, the bank accounts, a deed for each property. Eventually the goblin handed him the single smaller slip he had separate from the stack earlier on. It was simply an authority to remerge his trust fund into the family account. Harry was please to find that unlike Umbridge's weapon of torture, this quill didn't cause a physical mark to appear on his hand, though it did leave a sting in his fingertips.

"So…" Draagesh addressed Harry once again. "You have now in full your own legal entitlements. You will have noticed within the teller there were colour changes." Harry nodded his confirmation. "One of these is quite simple, blue indicates that you have been named as heir to another Nobel line. I'm sure that you can work out that this is clan Black?" Harry only nodded dumbly once again, to afraid that if he spoke his voice would fail him.

"Quite simply the same process as the last. Your Godfather left you his full estate, minus deductions of twenty five million galleons per head for Nymphadora and Andromeda Tonks, and one Mr Remus Lupin who also takes a cottage in the Scottish highlands. The line is some 700 years in age, 2 Wizengamot seats in the names of Black and Iver, two accounts amounting to roughly two hundred and fifty million in galleons when combined, and the remaining seven family properties, two of which are in the UK and the other five abroad."

Harry was once again handed a stack of parchments to sign and made to swear in for his two new Wizengamot seats. Draagesh also handed him a box which he seemed to produce from nowhere, that contained the family rings and seals.

"The final colour… the red…. This indicates that there is a dormant line or lines that you are a blood relative to. In magical law the ministry must hold a deceased line in suspension for 300 years. This allows any distant blood relative to claim the title before the Ministry can liquidise the estate. It's a rather medieval law that stems from a time when power and money were coveted by the ministry, beyond all else they wanted to rule absolute. This was a paper passed by the wizengamot, then and now very much the peoples voice, in an attempt to quell the practice of "liquidising" families for their land or titles. Should you wish to, we can find out who or what that line or lines are and if you are eligible to inherit? It would not harm your position to do so in either direction, in reality it is just an opportunity to grow your estates further. Should the line turn out to be in debt you are not obliged to take it on."

Harry looked at Phillip for guidance who just shrugged noncommittally. Taking this to mean no harm could be done, Harry gave his consent to Draagesh.

"For this we will need blood." Draagesh produced a silver dagger from a drawer in the desk and indicated for Harry to once again place his hand above the teller stone. He cut a small line, about an inch long into Harrys palm and then placed this once again against the surface of the stone.

They waited. And waited. Harry was just about to think they should give it up as a bad job when the stone began to glow. Not gold this time but a much deeper shade of blood red. Within the glass Harry could see the shields of three families though he recognised none of them. It didn't matter however, as Draagesh clearly did.

"Sullivan, Zhabin and Gresham. Interesting. Those three families have been on the list for a very long time, in fact they were all close to being claimed by the treasury. I can tell you they won't be happy….." Draagesh trailed off. Harry however had another question.

"How come my father or grandfather never did this if these have been sitting around for ages?"

"Your father wouldn't have had the opportunity. During the last war there were so many people impersonation other people or putting them under imperious that we stopped it all to prevent exploitation. Your grandfather however…" Draagesh appeared to be lost in thought for a while. "There was a period back in the early 1900's when the Ministry where taxing heavily. I say Ministry, I mean dictatorship. The early 1900s were a tough time. Some of the larger estates wouldn't have bothered with an act like this at that time as the tax thresholds would have meant that they probably would have crossed some line and shot up a band, thus putting themselves in a worse financial situation than they started at without the additional titles."

Harry didn't like this at all.

"Is there a risk of that now?" he questioned.

"No certainly not. As a general rule you'll find wizarding tax relatively low. I don't know what you know about muggle tax?" Harry shook his head to indicate nothing. "Well muggles pay tax, and that tax is used to pay for things like hospitals, schools, transport and them… what are they…. Please men? Anyway the Ministry of Magic provided very little in the way of public services. You pay for anything beyond very basic medical treatment. You pay for school if you want a decent education. If you end up in jail and your family has money you end up paying for your upkeep and probably that of several others. Everything Magical costs money because nobody is subsidising it very much but it means taxes are low. Normally around 10% of the annual estate income, which is put toward things like the Wizengamot fees, buildings for the Ministry and St. Mungo's. In fact one of the few things you can do in the magical world for free is have a baby, and as you're a young man, well…." Draagesh trailed off, chuckling to himself.

Harry found this very interesting and wondered why nobody taught such things at Hogwarts. They seemed to learn endless reams of goblin rebellions but nothing remotely useful that would help you run a household or understand how to manage your money. Remembering where he was and that one of said goblins was sat before him, Harry made himself pay attention. Draagesh was talking again.

"We'll start with house Zhabin. Russian in origin, I'm unsure how it came to end up in Britain. The smallest of these estates and I believe a distant relation to the Zambini line. Very little in the way of money here, only fifty million." Harry had to stop himself snorting at this. His understanding of what constituted rich or poor was going to need adjustment. "Three properties, all of them on mainland Europe. No Lordships or titles and no outstanding debts."

Harry yet again went through a rigmarole of signing bits of document and deeds.

"Sullivan. Irish in origin I believe, though with a heavy American influence later on. There is a title deed her for a seat in the American magical congress. As with your own seats you don't need to activate it now, it can wait for a later date should you wish to pursue it. US seats don't work like UK seats however. If this is not activated in your lifetime your line will lose the seat. Also five properties, 2 in Ireland and the other three in the USA. No debt to speak of. Bank accounts amass to about one hundred and seventy million."

Harry signed.

"Finally the Gresham Estate. This is a very famous old English estate. Many have tried to claim it over the years. The last Lord was murdered by Napoleon himself when he was still a young man. Anyway there are three seats – Gresham, Hastings and Spaulding. Ten properties. One is in north Wales, one in the south of England. The rest are abroad and tend to be in rather obscure places. Fiji for example. One of the many Lord Gresham's had a varied interest in Herbology and I think you'll find the estates gardens both enlightening and quite dangerous. Bank accounts aren't enormous, around the two hundred million mark. As the estate was at war when the Last lord died the accounts weren't at their most healthy."

Harry sat silently and marvelled at the being before him. This goblin was describing amounts that could keep entire families in luxury for several hundred years as "not very much." His head was pounding trying to take it all in. He now held eight UK wizengamot seats, one in America, had 41 properties and somewhere in the region of 1.6 billion galleons. Draagesh was doing something again, rattling around in draws beneath the desk and clipping things together. He handed Harry a key ring which now held five Gringotts account keys, each baring the crest of the family they related to.

"You can use these to access all account related to the relevant family. There are actually eleven vaults in total." He told Harry.

"Is there a way I can get money without coming to the bank?"

"Indeed yes." Draagesh handed him the second object he had been putting together. It was a dark brown wallet which bore the Potter family crest prominently in the centre and the four smaller crests in each of the outer corners. It looked to be made of some kind of tough leather.

"This is made of Moke skin and has been enchanted to only open to your command. It will recognise your magical signature. You will find on the inside a card pertaining to each estate similar to a muggle debit card. You will also find a pouch containing coins which will self-refill. You will also find several notes of magical currency. These, and the cards, tend to only be available only to our more prominent clients. This is because they are only in the higher denominations of 20g, 50g, 100g and 200g and the cards are rarely used for anything less than 1000g."

Harry was satisfied with this. He had never been very good at budgeting and often times found himself running low on money toward the end of the school year. He had never yet run out and this would ensure he never would. It also meant he'd never need to send Mrs Weasley to his bank vault again. Draagesh handed him two more objects. The first was a very large ring of keys.

"For your properties." He explained with a shrug.

The second was a coin similar to the one Harry had port keyed with that morning.

"Considering your circumstances it would perhaps be advisable to go straight from Gringotts to your home. This will take you to the Potter property nearest to central London. And I believe for now that is all…."

Harry and Phillip thanked Draagesh who left them in his office and went off who knows where. Harry made arrangements to meet Phillip for lunch at his office in a weeks' time and thanked him again for the time and effort. They had been in Gringotts for nearly 3 hours. Harry followed Phillip out into the hallway where there was an apparition platform and after a final farewell he left Phillip there and activated his portkey with a great sense of excitement. At last he was going home!


End file.
